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COLONEL WILLIAM F. CODY. 
(BuflFalo Bill) 




MAJOR GORDON W. LILLIE. 
(Pawnee Bill) 



THRILLING LIVES 



OF 



Buffalo Bill 

Colonel Wm. F. Cody 

Last of the Great Scouts 



AND 



Pawnee Bill 



Major Gordon W. Lillie 

(Pawnee Bill) 

PTHte Chief of the 
Pawnees 



BY 

Frank Winch 



Copyright 1911 

by 
FRANK WINCH 
\11 European Rights and Dramatic Rigiits Reserved 



L. PARSONS & CO., Inc. 

Publishers and Printers 

No. 45 Rose Street 

NEW YORK 

N. Y. 



©CI.A303154 



DEDICATION 

A 

TRIBUTE 

TO 

MOTHER. 



{Copy of personal letter written by Buffalo Bill to the 
author.) 



ViSALiA, California, October 13, 1910. 

My Dear Frank: — 

Yes — I had the great pleasure of meeting your dear 
Httle mother, and when I gazed on her sweet face and 
Hstened to her gentle voice she reminded me very much 
of my own angel mother who was little and sweet like 
your mother. 

And, Frank, I grew up among some of the roughest 
men and some of the most desperate characters that ever 
infested the border of civilization and had it not been for 
the teachings and prayers of my mother I, too, might 
have died with my boots on. I think to our mothers we 
owe most. God bless our mothers. 

Your true friend, 

W. F. Cody. 
[3] 



CHAPTER 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 



I . . Boyhood days of "Buffalo Bill" . . 9 

II . . Shoots First Indian 19 

III . . As Pony Express Rider .... 29 

IV . . A Civil War Spy 39 

V . . Wild Bill's Own Story i . . . . 51 

VI . . How ''Buffalo Bill" Won His Name 59 

VII . . Sheridan's Chief of Scouts ... 71 

VIII . . The Battle of Summit Springs . . 81 
IX . . Cody Entertains Royalty at Buffalo 

Hunt 91 

X . . Pawnee Bill's Boyhood Days ... 101 

XI . . Buffalo Bill As an Actor .... 115 

XII . . Pawnee Bill Meets Jesse James . 125 

XIII . . Buffalo Bill's Duel with Chief Yel- 

low Hand 139 

XIV . . Pawnee Bill Heads the Oklahoma 

Land Boomers 147 

XV . . Buffalo Bill Made Brigadier-General 157 
XVI . . Opening of the Cherokee Landstrip, 

Pawnee Bill in the Lead . . . 165 
XVII . . How Buffalo Bill's Wild West Was 

Organized 175 

XVIII . . Pawnee Bill, the "Jekyll and Hyde of 

the West" 187 

XIX . . Buffalo Bill's Last Time on the Bat- 
tlefield 195 

XX . . Buffalo Bill's Vast Properties ... 201 
XXI . . Pawnee Bill's Buffalo Ranch and 

Home 207 

XXII . . Buffalo Bill's Personal Farewell in 

the Saddle 217 

[5] 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAGES 

Buffalo Bill Frontispiece ' 

Pawnee Bill Frontispiece - 

Proclamation 8-9"^ 

Cody's Boyhood Friends 16-17^, 

Custer, Duke Alexis, Buffalo Bill 24-25 \ 

Oiaracteristic Pose 32-33v' 

Close to Nature 40-41 ' 

Death of "Tall Bull" 48-49' 

The Wounded Scout 56-57 v' 

Chief "Iron Tail" 64-65 

Shooting Glass Balls 72-73 

A Typical Cowboy 80-81 

Scenes from Cody's Life 88-89 

Generals Cody Served 96-97 

A Duel in the Open 104-105 

Cody Meets the King 112-113 

Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill 120-121 

Battle of Summit Springs 128-129 

Why Buffalo Bill Retires 136-137 

Buffalo Bill's Properties 144-145 

On the Cody Trail 152-153 

A Band of Sioux Indians 160-161 

Pawnee Bill's Home 168-169 

Pawnee Bill's Buffalo Ranch 176-177 

The Lillie Family 184-185 

A Consultation 192-193 

The Indian Monument 200-201 

Making the War Bonnet 208-209 

The Farewell Salute 216-217 

[6] 



PREFACE 



History is merely the chronicle of great men. Their 
deeds remain alive forever — time and epochs flicker only 
a moment and are succeeded again by time and men. 
As we each span our brief career, it is given to some to 
know great men only by the history they create — others 
to do with, to know personally, to enjoy their confidence, 
to study at close range the qualities that differentiate 
greatness. 

It is just this favoKd opportunity of intimate observa- 
tion that prompts the dual life histories of Buffalo Bill and 
Pawnee Bill. Buffalo Bill's fame was spreading when the 
gray heads of to-day were romping youngsters of yester- 
day, others grow old but the famous Scout seemed to revel 
in perpetual youth, at last, however, the inevitable is 
clocking off the showmanship days of Buffalo Bill, he 
has decreed the present season as his farewell in the sad- 
dle. He retires to enjoy the fruits of a life teeming with 
danger, sorrows, joys and struggles crowned with the 
ineffable gift of being America's most loved and Ideal 
Hero Horseman. 

The question is asked, **Who will take Buffalo Bill's 
place ?" and the following pages will couple in golden links 
the passing of the world's greatest Scout, Colonel William 
Frederick Cody, with his only legitimate successor, a man 
who courted prairie dangers when a boy, whose metal 
was tempered with the trying hardships that beset a primi- 
tive West, whose whole life has runged the ladder of 
Indian warfare, adventure, scouting, border fights, and 
the early settlement of one of our finest Western States — 
Major Gordon W. Lillie, "Pawnee Bill." 

[7] 



The lives of both these history makers are threaded 
with action of fact. I have eliminated from these pages 
every detail that smacks of tinseled theatrics. Buffalo 
Bill is one of the gentlest of men, warm hearted, 
kindly and generous. He is not demonstrative, nor does 
he enthuse, he is not impressionistic, but at all times he is 
observant of the slightest good in others. He notes every 
turn and twist of character, he is a student of human 
nature and a good one. He is a man that rewards friend 
and foe in a befitting manner. 

I hero-worshiped Bufifalo Bill when a child, adored him 
in youth, and now in manhood my fondest kid dreams 
have become crystallized in fact by the pleasure and honor 
of meeting him, knowing him and valuing his good friend- 
ship. I want every boy-man and every man-boy in the 
world to know Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill as I know 
them, I want to poise these two greatest of our living 
frontiersmen as an example for the emulation of young 
and old America — that those whose trail in life is cobbled 
with the sharp-edged stones of adversity may take a fresh 
grip on determination and reach their goal of happiness, 
every man's heritage. 

In this volume I aim at nothing more than giving to 
their million friends a simple, accurate and fictionless 
resume of the two greatest and most noted living plains- 
men that America ever had occasion to cherish — the 
Honorable William F. Cody, "Buffalo Bill," and Major 
Gordon W. Lillie, "Pawnee Bill." 

Frank Winch 

New York, March 6, 1911. 

[8] 




To The PUBLIC: 



* 






AFTER MANY YEARS of almost constant 
devotion to my calling, I have determined to 
retire from active service at the expiration ot a 
final and complete tour of the American continent. 
THEREFORE, following a series of "Farewell Exhibi- 
tions" which I hope to give in 1911 and 1912,1 shall per- 
manently abandon the arena, and seek to enjoy some of the 
fruits of my labors, which I feel that I have well earned 
during a long life of activity on the frontier, in the field 
during the Civil and Indian Wars, and as a provider of the 
most approved drama of our National History. 

IT IS, however, my earnest desire to once more salute from 
the saddle my millions of friends and patrons, and I take this 
opportunity to emphatically state that this will be my 
LAST, SOLE AND ONLY PROFESSIONAL APPEARANCE 
in the cities and towns nominated in the present itinerary, as it is my 
purpose to leave the active management of the great Educational Ex- 
hibition, which I have created, in the hands of my partner, Major G. W. 
Lillie (Pawnee Bill), and his associates, who will continue the enter- 
prise on the same magnificent scale and true fidelity that 1 have always 
tried to maintain, but without my personal presence in the saddle. 

AND NOW that I have reached this unalterable conclusion, I want 
to thank my numerous friends and the public for the full measure of 
success and applause that they have bestowed upon me, and I 
know of no honor that I shall cherish more than their good 
wishes, while the silent years are lurking in ambush for "The 
Ora Scout," and at the conclusion of each and every perform- 
ance I shall bid my numerous friends a fond farewelL 
Yours, always sincerely, 



1 




'i^u^o^- OUA' 




CHAPTER I. 



Boyhood Days of Buffalo Bill. 




OTHER, I've just killed my first Indian," 
gleefully shouted a bright-faced, rosy- 
cheeked lad of eleven, with eyes glistening 
as they fondly ranged over the rifle he car- 
ried. Putting the gun away, the youngster 
ran to his mother, kissed her and took both hands 
in his. 
"It was pretty exciting, too, mother," the lad continued. 
"Willie, you must be careful." 

It wasn't that Mrs. Cody didn't exactly approve of 
Indian killing, for in 1857 the redskins were recklessly 
massacring any and all the whites they chanced upon, 
but she feared for a lad of such tender age going into the 
open and risking his own precious life — made more 
so at this time, for youth that he was, Willie Cody was 
the head of the family and its sole male protector. 

[9] 



Thrilling Lives 

This then is our first introduction to William Frederick 
Cody— later on Colonel— the Honorable — and as he is 
known in every civiHzed country on earth — "Buffalo Bill." 
Isaac and Mary Cody, his parents, pioneers of Iowa, lived 
near the town of Le Clair, on the comfortable Scott Farm, 
Scott County, Iowa. It was here on the morning of 
February 26, 1846, that Cody was born. There were 
seven children, Martha, Julia, Eliza, Helen, May, Samuel 
and William. The latter was the fourth child. His first 
few years were spent in the ordinary life of most robust 
farmers' children. At a very early age Billy Cody became 
an adept at boating, fishing, shooting and in the art of 
horsemanship. 

In 1849 Isaac Cody operated a stage fine between Chi- 
cago and Davenport, la., there being no railroads at that 
time. His business was prosperous, but like many others 
he listened to the call of the Far West. California was 
then in the throes of its gold fever craze. The elder Cody 
made up his mind, turned his property into cash, and 
shortly after with the entire family safely stored away in 
wagons, joined one of the numerous cross-continent cara- 
vans. 

Proceeding but a few miles, they met returning strag- 
[lo] 



Cody in Constant Deviltry 

glers from the Pacific Coast Eldorado. Tales of hardships 
were not infrequently heard. Among the party were 
friends of Cody who endeavored to discourage him from 
the perilous and, as they found it, fruitless trip across 
the country. Dreams of golden fortunes vanished from 
the newly organized prospectors, most of whom returned 
home. 

The Cody family moved along, however, and finally 
located at Walnut Grove Farm in Scott County. Bill 
Cody was sent to school. While his merry nature was 
the life of his class, it also proved too trying a task for 
the teacher. The lad was in constant deviltry, first one 
thing and then another, until one day, after being attacked 
and badly whipped by a boy much older and stronger than 
the little fellow, Cody made up his mind for revenge. 
His chance came soon after. The bully attacked him 
again. Cody retaliated and thrashed the coward in good 
school-boy fashion. With loud cries that he was being 
murdered, the big boy ran to the teacher for help. Cody 
was dismissed, and afterwards offered reinstatement, but 
he was too full of animal spirits, he loved out-doors too 
well, his traps, gun, horse and the woods were his only 
curriculum of study. 

[II] 



Thrilling Lives 

Isaac Cody became prominent as a farmer and politician. 
He was elected Justice of the Peace and frequently 
stumped the county on behalf of the Whigs. It was dur- 
ing a convention that he harangued an interested crowd 
at a cross-road tavern called "Sherman's," that the first 
disaster entered his life, one that was to have portentous 
weight in the future, one that spun the cycle of events 
sadly and swiftly for his devoted family. 

It was on that day that William and Samuel, the older 
brother, had gone for a horseback ride; Sam, who was 
then fourteen years old was a remarkably good horseman. 
His pony, a wild and unruly little creature, suddenly 
plunged. "Look out for him, Sam!" Billy cried. 

"Oh, he's all right," Sam answered. "Pretty near got 
me then, didn't you, pony?" he said, scolding his horse. 

Without a second's warning the animal plunged again, 
and when standing on its hind feet reared backward, fell 
to the ground, the unfortunate Sam was pinioned be- 
neath. The lad lived but a few hours. 

Crushed by the loss of her son, Mrs. Cody could not 
remain where painful memories of the sad accident were 
constantly freshened to her mind. The family moved 
westward — this time heading for Weston, Platte County, 

[12] 



Playing with Indians 

Missouri, where a brother of Isaac Cody was Hving. It 
was the father's intention to eventually reach Kansas. 

For a year or so things moved quietly. The father 
engaged in trading with the Indians, earning their re- 
spect and friendship, likewise that of the settlers. Will 
Cody spent most of his time playing with the Kickapoo 
Indian boys, learning their language, how to handle the 
bow and arrow, and in many ways studying their traits 
and habits. 

In 1854 a bill called 'The Enabling Act of Kansas," 
was passed. Thousands of homeseekers flocked to the 
territory. Many came from the adjoining States, includ- 
ing numbers of Missourians. 

The country was being racked with the slavery ques- 
tion. Most of the Missourians, as was his brother Elija, 
were in favor of negro bondage. Frequent meetings were 
held and speeches intended to inflame pro-slavery sup- 
port were heard on all sides. 

Isaac Cody maintained discreet silence, but his ability 
as an orator led others to draw him from seclusion, little 
thinking of the calamity that was to follow. From the 
North and South came the ominous rumbles of battle talk, 
the pro- and anti-slavery men in all sections busied them- 

[13] 



Thrilling Lives 

selves in proselyting to one banner or the other. Weston, 
the little prairie village, issued a call for a gigantic mass 
meeting. Speakers from near-by settlements were invited 
to strengthen the cause by an expression of their views. 
The elder Cody was prevailed upon to talk. 

Billy accompanied his father to the meeting place. It 
was held in the open, a huge box doing service as a 
rostrum, and on all sides a hundred or so drink-crazed 
slavery fanatics had gathered to hear Isaac Cody's de- 
nunciation of pro-slavery. His appearance was greeted 
with cheers, then as he mounted the box a silence spread, 
the men listened eagerly. 

"Gentlemen and fellow citizens," began Cody in clear, 
determined voice, *T accept your invitation to speak — it is 
against my will. My views are not in accord with the 
rest of this assembly. The question before us to-day is : 
Shall the Territory of Kansas be a free or slave State? 
The question of slavery is a broad one ; your motive in call- 
ing upon me is to have me express my sentiments in 
regard to the introduction of slavery in Kansas. I will 
gratify your wish ; I am one of the pioneers of Iowa, gen- 
tlemen ; I voted that it should be a white State." 

This unexpected statement came like a thunderbolt, 
[14] 



Cody Protects His Father 

"Down with him," yelled an infuriated wretch, brandish- 
ing a pistol. 

''Hear him out!" shouted others; and when quiet was 
restored, Cody continued: "I say to you now, and say it 
emphatically, that I propose to exert all my power 
in making Kansas the same kind of a State as 
Iowa." 

Angry murmurs and subdued threats swept over the 
crowd. Bill Cody, young as he was, scented danger, and 
edged closer to his father, keeping an eye on a wicked- 
looking gangster who was fingering his revolver. 

"These are my sentiments, gentlemen," Cody continued, 
"and let me tell you " But the sentence was never fin- 
ished. The mob was worked to a fever heat of frenzy; 
it hooted and hissed. 

"Get down from that box !" 

"Traitor!" 

"Kill him! Kill him!" 

The elder Cody was in the act of continuing his speech 
when a skulking coward sneaked up behind, dealt the 
guarding youngster a terrible blow on the head, jumped 
to the box and sank his bowie knife to its hilt in Isaac 
Cody's back. 

[15] 



Thrilling Lives 

Instantly pandemonium reigned ; the assassin sprang at 
the prostrate body as it rolled to the ground. 

"Men, this is not fair play," exclaimed Billy Cody. 
"Give father a chance." 

The better element in the crowd overpowered the mur- 
derer. Realizing the effect of this lawlessness in the blood- 
stained body of heroic Isaac Cody as it lay on the ground, 
most of the mob quickly dispersed. Helping hands car- 
ried the unconscious man to his home. For weeks he 
hovered between life and death, and for weeks the family 
was kept in constant terror by the frequent raids of a 
blood-thirsty gang, who, on hearing that he was still alive, 
demanded Cody's life. 

One evening a month or so after the stabbing, when 
Mr. Cody had convalesced sufficiently to sit up, 
a party of horsemen drew rein at the door. Billy 
had seen them approach, and gave the warning, 
Mrs. Cody hastily hid the sick man in an upper 
room. 

"Halloo, there ! Open that door !" came the shouts from 
the crowd. 

Mrs. Cody opened the window. 

"What do you want?" she exclaimed. 
[i6] 




TEXAS JACK— WILD BILL— BUFFALO BILL. 
As They Appeared in Their Younger Days. 



"Get Ready — ^Load Guns" 

"We are after that abolitionist husband of yours," an- 
swered one of the crowd. 

"He is not in this house," Mrs. Cody repHed, with 
brave voice. 

"That's a He! We know that he's here, and we're bound 
to have him," said the spokesman, advancing with his 
crowd. 

"Stop, or you will all be killed; this house is full of 
armed men." She withdrew from the window for a min- 
ute, and hurriedly instructed the herder to call aloud cer- 
tain names, any that he might think of, just as if the 
house was full of men to whom he was giving orders. 
He followed the directions to the very letter; the crowd 
outside heard him, and thought that there was really 
quite a force of men in the house. While this was going 
on, Mrs. Cody opened the window and said: 

"You had better go away — the men will surely fire on 
you." 

At this point the herder, Billy Cody, and his sisters 
commenced stamping on the floor, imitating a squad of 
soldiers marching to the front of the house, and the 
herder issued orders in a loud voice to his imaginary force 
of men: 

[17] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Get ready, load guns, aim " 

The stratagem was successful; the villains, all except 
the man who stabbed Cody, fled. This fellow approached 
the house steps. Bill Cody, grabbing a rifle, sprang to 
the window, leveled at the ruffian. "Stop!" exclaimed 
Cody. "Not another step! And if father dies I will 
kill you!" 







[i8] 



CHAPTER II. 



Shcmdts First Indian. 




'Y NO means had the turbulent days come to 

an end for the Codys. The pro-slavery men 

kept up a persistent persecution of Isaac 

Cody, whose recovery was slow and never 

complete. 

In the Spring of 1857 he succumbed to the wound, a 

martyr for the cause of Kansas in an effort to keep it 

unsullied with the blackness of slavery. The land of 

his adoption and where his son in after years was to carve 

glory from hardships became his last resting place. 

Isaac Cody's remains now rest at Pilot Knob, 

which overlooks the city of Leavenworth. Friend and foe 

granted him in death the tributes of respect he merited as 

an upright, generous, kindly and just man. 

Some weeks after this, a youngster not twelve years 
old walked in to an office in Leavenworth. 

[19] 



Thrilling Lives 

"I want to see the boss," Billy Cody said. 

"I'm he," repUed a Mr. Majors of the firm of Russel, 
Majors and Wadell, who were overland freighters and 
contractors. "What do you want?" 

"Work." 

"What can a boy of your age do?" asked Majors 
kindly. 

"I can ride, shoot and herd cattle," said Cody. "I'm 
the head of the family now and will do anything honest 
that pays the best money, so that I can take care of my 
mother and sisters." 

"What's your name, my boy?" 

"Billy Cody." 

Mr. Majors looked at the handsome, manly youngster 
for a second ; he had known his father well. 

"I would like to do something for you, but our work is 
too hard for such a lad." 

"You pay man's wages for man's work, don't you?" 
asked Bill. "Give me a chance ; I want nothing but what 
I can earn." 

Will was employed as extra boy on a freight caravan. 

The die was cast; unknowingly to boy and man he was 
launched on a career that meant more for civilization than 

[ao] 



Good-bye, Mother 

any would have ventured to guess. Thrown on his own 
resources when most lads think only of marbles or top 
spinning, with the added duty of earning a support for 
mother and sisters. Cody, whose fame was subsequently 
to penetrate the farthermost corners of the world, began 
a life that for half a century afterward was beset with 
every danger and peril that human could encounter and 
survive. He keystoned the arch of reclamation that gave 
to our country its best, most fertile and richest section 
of the great unknown West. 

In a twinkling Billy had hurried home, told his mother 
and sisters of his good fortune, packed away a few trin- 
kets, a small Bible, fondly kissed his sweet little mother 
and the youngsters good-bye, and rushed back to report 
for duty. 

Quick orders had been received at the office to dispatch 
a herd of cattle to General Albert Sidney Johnson, who 
was enroute across the plains, headed for Salt Lake to 
fight the Mormons. 

Frank and Bill McCarthy had charge of the supply 
train and herd of cattle ; young Cody was assigned as ex- 
tra boy, his duties carrying him from one wagon to the 
other with messages from the diflFerent bosses. 

[21] 



Thrilling Lives 

The "bullwhackers," in other words drivers and the 
wagon masters, took a great fancy to young Cody. They 
liked his quiet and manly ways, his pluck in undertaking 
such hard work. 

The first part of the journey was uneventful. Cody 
welcomed an order, as it gave him a chance to dash back 
and forward on a spirited pony. His riding won the 
praise of everyone on the train. So far all had been 
serene. He was homesick at times for the loving ones 
left behind. He grew tired, as his young body was not 
hardened to the tiresome travel; but always before him 
shone the beacon of success, he made up his mind to win 
out, and how well he succeeded subsequent events speak 
for themselves. 

Nothing occurred to interrupt the journey until the 
caravan reached Plum Creek on the South Platte River, 
about thirty-five miles west of Old Fort Kearney. The 
train had made its morning drive and halted for dinner. 
Three men were placed on guard as outpost, and nearly 
all the balance, tired with the arduous trip, spread them- 
selves under the mess wagon for a short sleep. 

Will Cody was repairing a broken saddle strap. In the 
far distance he thought he espied a cloud of dust or rain. 

[22] 



Three Guards Shot 

"Going to storm, ain^t it?" he asked one of the drivers. 
"Look over there." 

"Storm hell !" shouted the other, after a glance. "Them's 
Indians." 

Cody gave a shout of warning, and a second later as 
the men hustled from a soft sleep, grabbed their guns and 
prepared for action. 

A volley of shots came from the left, the air rang with 
demoniac war whoops in a flash, the cattle had stampeded 
and were scurrying in all directions. The three guards 
were shot down, and the Indians by hundreds came charg- 
ing at the brave little body of men huddled behind the 
wagons. 

This was Cody's first sight of Indians on murder bent. 
He had heard of them, their bloodthirsty yells, their poi- 
soned arrows, their naked, highly-colored, stained bodies ; 
their fantastic-colored headgear. He was flushed with 
excitement, quietly pulling the gun trigger he raised just 
over the wagon side. 

"Get down there, boy!" yelled the man beside him, as a 
bullet whistled over the youngster's head. 

"Them red devils can shoot like mad!" 

[23] 



Thrilling Lives 

Cody crouched beside the wagon master and waited for 
orders from the boss. On they came, the Indians mounted 
on snorting, hard-breathing ponies, war-whooping to the 
accompanying horse-hoof tattoo as they raced over the 
hard, brown, sunburnt prairies. 

The wagon men were all well armed with heavy Colt 
revolvers and Mississippi yaegers, a powerful gun carry- 
ing a bullet and two buckshot. 

"Steady, boys!" Frank McCarthy sang out coolly. 
"Take good aim, pick your man. Fire !" 

The guns thundered, and through powder flash and 
smoke the leader saw the effect of the fire. The volley 
checked the rush for a moment. 

"Boys," McCarthy yelled, "load up as you run and 
make a break for that slough yonder ; we can use its bank 
for a breastwork." 

On double-quick the men dashed for cover, reached it 
in safety, carrying along one of their number who had 
been wounded. The bank afforded excellent protection, 
but McCarthy was worried. 

"The longer we stay here," he said, "the worse we'll be 
coralled ; we must try to make our way back to Fort Kear- 

[24] 



Followed by Indl^ns 

ney by wading the river, keeping in the shadow of the 
bank." 

Slowly and cautiously the little band of men edged their 
way down the stream, in places it was so deep that they 
had to swim; a raft was built for the wounded herder. 

The Indians followed at a safe distance, occasionally 
sending along a bothersome shot or poisoned arrow. 
Strong men as they were, the strain and labor began to 
tell on the wagon drivers. It was a case of every man 
for himself ; little attention had been paid to young Cody, 
who was drenched to the skin. 

Surging with excitement, his brain and body not used 
to such a gruelling task, was deadly fatigued. The 
youngster began to lag behind. 

It was about ten o'clock that night — the moon at times 
peeped through tree tops fringing the river bank. All 
was quiet save the gurgling water as the stream swirled 
around the tired legs of the wagon men. They were mov- 
ing forward very slowly. 

Cody crept to the bank exhausted. He crawled beneath 
a big bowlder for a moment's rest, his body numbed, his 
eyes drowsy; the youngster's head was soon nodding its 
willingness to toss off to slumber. 

[25] 



Thrilling Lives 

The others of the party continued on. All was silence. 
Suddenly a twig snapped on the bank's edge overhead. 
Cody was alert in a second. He listened. Then came the 
sound of dry grass rustling as if an animal were stealthily 
moving. Instinctively the boy scented danger. He cau- 
tiously peered around the bowlder's edge, and at the same 
instant the moon rays fell aslant the river bank's crest. 

There, peering down the stream, lying prostrate, poising 
his rifle for a deadly shot, was an Indian with head plumed 
in Chieftain's feathers. The redskin's rifle trigger clicked 
and at the same instant Cody aimed. 

Bang! — a blinding flash, a puff of smoke, and the In- 
dian came tumbling down to the water's edge, dead. 

The shot was a warning for the men ahead; a second 
later the Indians, who had wriggled themselves to the 
river bank top, opened fire. Cody's shot had drawn their 
attention, and, thinking that the entire body of whites 
were close at hand, the redskins fusilladed the direction 
from where Cody's shot came. He had dodged back 
behind the bowlder, and lay there uninjured waiting for 
another chance. 

Led on by McCarthy, the men soon routed the Indians, 
Cody scrambling over the bank, joined in the fight and 

[26] 



Billy, You're a Dandy 

had his first taste of Indian warfare. The little heroic 
band gathered around two of its men that had fallen in 
the skirmish. 

**Men, that first shot was the warning that saved all our 
lives," exclaimed Frank McCarthy, gazing at the Indian 
Cody shot. "Who fired it?" 

"I did," modestly spoke up young Cody. 

"By thunder, Billy, you're a dandy!" and the wagon 
master was the first to grasp his hand. "We owe our 
lives to you." 

The men showered their gratitude and congratulations 
on the blushing youngster. 

"Just doing my duty," Bill remarked. "Mr. Majors 
told me that I would have to do a man's work to get a 
man's pay, and I'm trying to do it." 



27] 



CHAPTER III. 



As A Pony Express Rider. 




OR an hour or so the party waited; making 
sure that the Indians had abandoned their 
attack, they proceeded cautiously to Kear- 
ney, where Russel, Majors and Wadell had 
an agent. McCarthy reported the battle. A 
company of troops was sent out as escort. The bodies 
of the slain herders were found scalped and literally cut 
to pieces, the remains were buried on the plains. 

A few of the stampeded cattle were caught, the expedi- 
tion was a failure, and young Cody returned home, where 
the news of his Indian killing had preceded him. He was 
warmly congratulated by Mr. Majors. 

Billy Cody was not slated for a life of inactivity. He 
joined another outfit with supplies for General Johnson's 
army. This fared with but little success. The Danites 

[29] 



Thrilling Lives 

captured the supplies, and the men were again sent home. 
It was during this trip, however, that Cody met one of 
the greatest of frontiersmen — James B. Hickock — who 
won fame as a man quick on the trigger, earning the sobri- 
quet of "Wild Bill." He took a great fancy to young 
Cody, which ripened into the warmest of friendship, con- 
tinuing throughout the life of Wild Bill. 

Cody spent a year or so trapping, was captured by In- 
dians, had a marvelous escape, encountered a band of 
horse thieves, killed one, and led an expedition which 
captured the rest. For weeks shortly after this he had a 
leg broken and lay in a cave while a boon friend and 
chum rode and walked a hundred miles for medical aid. 

Then came the agitation for a mail service between the 
East and West that was faster than the then present-day 
mode of transporting letters. The Pony Express was cre- 
ated. By relaying horse and rider with others at certain 
points along the route, mail could be sent to California in 
about three weeks. Letters were written on the finest 
tissi'e paper and were carried at the rate of five to eight 
dollars an ounce. As the experiment became a success, 
valuable parcels were dispatched. It took but little time 
for the outlaws infesting the Western deserts to realize 

[30] 



Meets Old Friend 

that robbery of the express pouch would result to their 
profit. In consequence a new terror was added to that 
which already menaced the riders, in the shape of wild 
animals and marauding Indians. 

The riders received about one hundred and twenty-five 
dollars a month for their perilous work. Two hundred 
and fifty miles was the daily assignment that these 
intrepid men must cover. 

On the 3rd of April, 1860, the first Pony Express rider 
with pouch strapped to his back bounded away on the 
journey that led from St. Joseph, Mo., to Sacramento, Cal. 

Cody, now a lad of fourteen, had gone out West again. 
He intended to try mining. At Julesberg he met the 
agent of Russel, Majors and Wadell, who owned the Pony 
Express line. 

"Hello, Billy," said Mr. Christman, who was formerly 
in the same wagon train with Cody, as the latter ran into 
him accidentally. The meeting was a cordial one. The 
agent was then buying ponies and equipment to get his 
section of the line in readiness. 

"Sorry you aren't older, Billy," Christman said. "Fd 
like to give you a job as Pony Express rider." 

[313 



Thrilling Lives 

Then the agent explained the new venture, its dangers 
and the pay the riders would receive. 

"A hundred and twenty-five a month," mused the four- 
teen-year-old plainsman, thinking of the mothers and sis- 
ters at home. "Say, Mr. Christman, give me a chance at 
that job, will you?" 

"Can't do it, Billy ; the work is too hard and too danger- 
ous; nerves of steel and a quick enough eye along the 
pistol barrel don't come in youngsters of your age, no 
matter how game and willing you are." 

In a twinkling Cody's revolver flashed from its holster ; 
a cowboy twenty feet away was striking a match to light 
his pipe. A sharp report, and the astounded cowboy 
gazed at the stub end of the match held in his fingers, the 
other end lay on the ground. 

"My nerves are as good as my eye — I want a job as a 
rider," and Cody pleaded his case to such good effect that 
he was promptly engaged. 

For three months the lad pounded against the saddle, 
making fifteen miles an hour every day. The work wore 
him down; at times he thought that possibly his nerves 
were made of iron instead of steel, but his will was in- 
domitable. 

[32] 




A CHARACTERISTIC POSE. 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Permit Me to Introduce a Congress 
of the Rough Riders of the World." 



"Throw up Your Hands !" 

The folks at home needed the money, and he was de- 
termined to stick it out as long as he could keep his tired 
body together on the back of his dashing pony. So far 
he had been decidedly lucky in not meeting with any 
trying experiences with either Indians or highwaymen, 
and in due proportion he felt deeply chagrined. He craved 
for just a little excitement to reHeve the monotony of the 
continuous pound, pound, pound of horse hoofs and the 
scurrying of coyotes. At the stables he even twitted 
Christman about the forewarned dangers. Wish as he 
might, nothing would occur to give the lad a chance to 
test his metal against real trouble. 

One day Christman called Cody to the office. 

"Be careful to-day, Billy," he said; "we're sending a 
very valuable package through — there are reports of the 
Halloway gang along the trail." 

"I'll get through safely," Bill replied, leaped to the 
saddle and dashed away. 

For several hours nothing untoward occurred. He 
was speeding along the narrow trail w^hen, just as he was 
rounding a bend, some one shouted : 

"Throw up your hands!" 

[33] 



Thrilling Lives 

''Can't/' Cody replied. "Horse will run away." He 
drew rein. 'T say, Mister, point the business end of that 
gun of yours away from my head." 

Cody was decidedly cool — here was a predicament, just 
what he had hoped for, but it came without a warning; 
then he remembered that Christman told him to get his 
pouches through. 

"Hurry up, throw off those mail bags," commanded the 
outlaw sternly. 

"These ain't mail bags," Cody fibbed, sparring for time 
to get his plan of action working; "just some old papers 
I'm taking over to the post." 

"Look here, boy, I don't want to hurt you, but throw 
'em off quick or I'll shoot !" 

Cody knew he meant business. He unbuckled the bags 
and threw them over the horse's head at the robber's 
feet. As the latter stooped to pick them up, Billy rammed 
the spurs to the pony's flanks, the animal jumped wildly, 
struck the outlaw flush, and sent him sprawling to the 
ground. 

Cody's gun covered the thief in a second. 

"Look here, Mister Robber, I don't want to hurt you," 

[34] 



Express Rider Killed 

Billy said banteringly, mocking the other, "but throw 
those bags up here quick, or I'll shoot!" 

The robber lay motionless. Billy dismounted, ap- 
proached cautiously and saw that the man was unconscious. 
He had been struck in the head by the horse's hoof. A 
deep gash across his forehead told the story. After dis- 
arming himj Billy replaced the mail bags, hid the outlaw's 
weapons in the brush near by, dragged him to a tree, and, 
using a leather rope, tied the outlaw fast; then, remount- 
ing, urged the pony on to make up for the time lost in 
tete-a-teteing with the robber. 

As he neared the next station where he was to be re- 
lieved, Cody saw signs that foreboded trouble. The door 
was opened, the windows shattered, and, lying beside the 
hitching post, gun in hand, the relief rider was dead. There 
was no one to take the bags on to the next station. It 
meant a serious delay on the one side — an eighty-five mile 
ride for him if he continued. Cody was tired; with- 
out a moment's hesitation the gritty youngster nosed his 
pony on the trail for Rocky Ridge. It was a heart-break- 
ing task, but when duty called Cody did not know the 
word quit. About ten miles out he had a skirmish with 
a party of ten or fifteen Indians; bending low over the 

[35] 



Thrilling Lives 

pony's back and reaching under its neck, he emptied both 
revolvers at the redskins; they gave up the chase, as the 
boy's pony was too fleet of foot and the bullets had 
whizzed too near their heads. 

Arriving at the post he changed horses, reported the 
other rider's death, and half an hour later was tearing 
along the path homeward bound. 

The ride was eventless. Approaching finally the bend 
where he had met the robber the day before, Billy, pistol 
in hand, made the turn cautiously. The man was still 
unconscious. In a second Cody had the figure strapped 
on behind him. 

It was dark when Cody and the captive outlaw reached 
headquarters. Christman was standing out front ; he was 
mad through and through. 

"What the devil kept you so long?" he exclaimed. 
"This won't do. You're fired and fined a month's pay." 

Billy drew rein, dismounted, and let the outlaw slip to 
the ground; he was conscious and made an eflFort to es- 
cape, but was promptly checked by Cody. 

"Who in thunder is that?" shouted Christman. 

"Don't know much about him ; he tried to hold me up," 
Cody replied quietly. "Better send some one up to the 

[36] 



A Life Job 

other station, someone killed the agent. I took his bags 
right through to Rocky Ridge." 

Cody started to lead his horse to the corral. 

"Hold on, Billy." Christman's voice had softened. "To 
Rocky Ridge? Why, man alive, it's a three hundred and 
twenty-three mile trip, and you made it?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Well, darn my hide, I take back what I said; you're 
not fired — you've got a life job and a twenty-five-dollar-a- 
month raise in wages. Here's my hand." 

"Thank you, sir." 

Then Billy fed and watered his horse, shook down 
some hay and tumbled off to sleep. 



[37] 



CHAPTER IV. 



A Civil War Spy. 




ff OUNG man, I want some one that I can trust 
to send on a very dangerous and important 
errand," said General O. J. Smith. "You 
will do." 

And with those words young Cody, now 
eighteen years old, tall, handsome, with a frank, boyish 
candor in every feature, assumed one of the most arduous 
military roles ever assigned to a soldier. 

Many events had transpired since those narrated in the 
preceding chapter. Mrs. Cody had passed away. Broken- 
hearted, he gave up the Pony Express riding. The 
guns of Sumter had written in flame their ominous mes- 
sage. Bill Cody'decided to enlist. He was recruited in the 
Seventh Kansas Regiment, known as Jennison's Jay- 
hawkers, which had once disbanded, reorganized and 
re-enlisted as veterans. 

[39] 



Thrilling Lives 

The regiment was ordered to Tennessee, reaching there 
just about the time that General Sturgis had been soundly 
whipped by the forces under General Forrest. 

"Report for duty within an hour if you are satisfied to 
take the big risks for your country." 

"You mean," answered Cody quietly, "that you wish me 
to go as a spy in the rebel camp ?" 

"Exactly; you know the penalty if caught — you will be 
hung." 

"I am ready to obey any duty assigned to me, sir," 
replied the youngster. 

"I am sure, Cody," said General Smith kindly, "that if 
any one can go through safely you will, dodging Indians 
on the plains was good training for the work you have 
in hand, which demands quick intelligence and ceaseless 
vigilance. Take these maps to your quarters, study them 
carefully, return to-night for full instructions." 

Saluting the officer, Cody wheeled about, his bearing 
every bit the soldier. When once beneath the canvas of 
his tent, his whole frame relaxed. 

"A spy," he mused; "by thunder, I don't mind being 
shot, but I hate to think of the disgrace of being hanged. 

[40] 




a, 
a 

u 
bo 

O 

o 



Halt ! A Spy 

It's important work, and some one must do it. I will, and 
succeed, too." 

Just as he was about to enter the general's tent that 
evening, Cody saw the figure of a man skulking in the 
brush. He eyed him for a second, then quickly throwing 
rifle to shoulder, gave the command : 

"Halt! Who goes there?" 

"Don't shoot ; I'm wounded," came the reply. 

"Advance." 

A limping figure emerged from the bushes. It was 
dressed in Confederate gray. Cody approached. 

"Good God!" he exclaimed. "Nat Golden, whom I 
knew when I was on the freight caravans." 

Golden recognized Cody instantly. 

"Hello, Bill Cody; what are you doing here?" 

"At present making you a prisoner of war," Bill an- 
swered. "Nat, this is too bad. I would have rather cap- 
tured a whole regiment than you. I don't like to take you 
a prisoner. Why in thunder did you enlist on the other 
side?" 

"The fortunes of war, Billy," laughed Nat. "Friends 
shall be turned against friends, and brother against 
brother. You wouldn't have had me a prisoner if my 

[41] 



Thrilling Lives 

rifle hadn't missed fire, that wounded stunt was only a 
bluff ; mighty glad my gun failed me, Bill, for I wouldn't 
have wanted to be the one that shot you." 

"And I don't want to see you strung up," Bill said ; "so 
hand me over those papers that you have and I will turn 
you in as an ordinary prisoner." 

"Do you think I am a spy, Billy?" asked Nat, with face 
paled. 

"I know it." 

"Well," Nat replied, "I've risked my life to obtain these 
papers, but they will be taken from me anyway; so I 
might as well give them up now if it will save my neck." 

Cody called the guard, turned over his prisoner, and 
presented himself to the commander. As usual, he thought 
quickly. His plan was original and daring. 

"General, I gathered from a statement dropped by a 
prisoner that I just captured that a Confederate spy had 
succeeded in making out and carrying to the enemy a 
complete map of the position of our regiment, together 
with some idea of the projected plan of campaign." 

"I am glad to get this information," replied the gen- 
eral. "I will change my position so that the enemy's in- 

[42] 



Who Goes There? 

formation will be of no value to them. When will you 
set out?" 

"To-night, sir. I have a Confederate uniform and every- 
thing ready for an early start." 

"Going to change your colors, eh?" 

"Yes, for the time being; but not my principles." 

"You will need all the wit, pluck, nerve and caution of 
which you are possessed to come through this ordeal 
safely. Good-bye, and success go with you," and the gen- 
eral grasped the young man's hand in hearty manner. 

At four o'clock in the morning Cody was in the saddle, 
riding toward the Confederate lines. At dawn he sighted 
the enemy's outposts. He was carefully dressed as a 
Southern officer. With a reassuring touch of the papers 
in his pocket that he had taken from Nat Golden, he 
spurred toward the sentry. 

"Halt! Who goes there?" 

"Friend." 

"Dismount, friend, advance, and give the countersign." 

"Haven't the countersign," said Cody, dropping from 
his saddle, "but I have important information for General 
Forrest; take me to him at once." 

[43] 



Thrilling Lives 

When Forrest heard the report he ordered Cody brought 
before him, 

"Well, sir," said he, "what can I do for you?" 
"You sent a man named Nat Golden into the Union 
lines." 

"And if I did, what then ?" 

"He's an old friend of mine ; he tried to reach the 
Union camp to verify some information that he had re- 
ceived, but before he started he left certain papers with 
me in case he was captured." 

"Was he captured?" Forrest asked. 

"Yes, sir; but as I happened to know he wasn't hanged, 
for these weren't on him. Golden asked me to bring 
these to you." With that Cody produced the maps he had 
taken from his erstwhile acquaintance. 

General Forrest knew Golden's handwriting, the docu- 
ments were manifestly genuine. His suspicion was not 
aroused. 

"These are important papers," he said. "Do you know 
what they contain?" 

"Every word ; I studied them carefully, so that in case 

[44] 



Cody Plans Escape 

they were destroyed I could still give you the informa- 
tion." 

"Very wise thing to do; are you a soldier?" 
"I have not joined the army. This uniform belongs to 
Golden. I wore it to get to your lines easier. I know 
this section very well — could you use me as a scout ?" 
''What is your name?" 

"Frederick Williams," Cody answered, almost telling 
the truth. 

"Very well ; you may remain in camp, I'll send for you 
when the time comes." Forrest called an orderly. 

"Make this young man comfortable at the couriers' 
camp." 

"Yes, sir." 

The second day after saw Cody busy. He had picked 
up valuable information, had drawn maps, and was pre- 
pared to make his escape at the first opportunity. For- 
rest had not as yet sent for him, and the young spy re- 
alized that his only mode of escape lay in taking leave 
without orders, the which, most likely, being followed by 
a volley of sentries' bullets. 

Cody approached the General's tent and saw him talking 

[45] 



Thrilling Lives 

with a soldier. He could not see the other's face. Sud- 
denly he recognized the voice. 

"Nat Golden!" he muttered under his breath, turning 
abruptly on his heel and making for his quarters. 

"Here's a mess," Cody thought, "with Golden in camp. 
I can see where the Johnnies will have a hanging party 
with me as the central figure of entertainment, and that 
won't do." 

Quietly saddling his horse, Cody mounted and leisurely 
rode toward the outpost, his gray uniform passed him 
through without a challenge. He had gone a good fifty 
yards and was heading for a stretch of timber ; suddenly 
the dull thudding of horse's hoofs caught his ear, and he 
turned to see a small cavalcade bearing down upon him at 
a gallop. 

The spurs grated his horse's flanks as he dashed for 
the timber. It was out of the frying pan into the fire. 
He ran into a dozen Confederate cavalrymen guarding two 
Union prisoners. 

"Men, a Union spy has escaped!" shouted Cody, dash- 
ing up to them. "Scatter at once and head him off. I'll 
look after your prisoners." 

[46] 



Tm the Spy 

Without a thought of questioning his command, the 
cavalrymen scurried right and left in search of the fugi- 
tive. 

"Come," said Bill in a whisper to the Union soldiers, 
"I'm the spy — there," cutting the ropes that bound their 
wrists, "now ride for your lives!" 

The Confederates soon discovered the ruse and set 
after the fleeing trio in mad pursuit. It was a running 
battle, bullets snipped the trees, Cody turned, taking quick 
aim, brought the leader of the pursuers to the ground ; and 
then gave the order for his two companions to separate. 
The three men scattered to different parts of the wood. 

For an hour or so the young spy spurred through woods 
and open plains. The sound of pursuers ceased, and Cody 
jogged leisurely along the old country road, chuckling 
over his good luck. 

Riding up to a farmhouse, Bill entered and asked for 
food. Seated at the same table was a man dressed in 
Confederate gray. The two were alone. 

"You little rascal, what are you doing in those 'sesesh' 
clothes ?" the tall man inquired, with a quiet laugh. Cody's 
first thought was that he had been recognized. In an in- 
stant his pistol flashed in view. 

[47] 



Thrilling Lives 

"I ask the same question of you, sir," he bravely re- 
phed. 

"Hush! Sit down; put that shooting iron of yours 
away and have some bread and milk." It was ''Wild Bill/' 
one of Cody's staunchest friends, disguised as a Confed- 
erate officer. After a quick luncheon, the two strolled 
out. 

''Billy," Wild Bill said, "I am mighty glad to see you. 
What are you doing here ?" 

"Scouting and getting information." 

"That's exactly what I'm doing. Take these papers, 
Billy, to the General; tell him I'm digging up too much 
good news to leave the Confederate camp." 

"All right. When will I see you again?" 

"You'll hear from me in a day or two." 

They shook hands and parted. 

True to his word, it wasn't long before Wild Bill and 
Cody met, but in a manner that neither had counted on. 
One day while both armies were drawn up in skirmish 
line near Fort Scott, Kansas, two men were seen rapidly 
leaving the Confederate side, dashing toward the boys 
in blue. Instantly volleys were discharged from the sol- 
diers in gray, who also began a pursuit and some five hun- 

[48] 



Don't Shoot Boys! 

dred shots were fired at the fleeing men. It was evident 
that the two were trying to reach the Union Hnes, but 
when within about a quarter of a mile the one in the lead 
suddenly raised in his saddle, took quick aim, and the 
other toppled to the ground to rise no more. A detach- 
ment was sent out under Cody to meet the horseman and 
check his pursuers. In the dim twilight it was difficult 
to distinguish faces. The Confederates, on seeing the 
charge made by Cody and his men, paused and, wheeling 
around, rode back to their lines. 

The lone horseman kept on coming. He was a Confed- 
erate officer. Instantly every Union rifle came to the 
shoulder, awaiting the command to fire. 

"Don't shoot, boys ; it's a Union spy. It's Wild Bill !" 
shouted Cody. 



[49] 



ly? 




CHAPTER V. 



Wild Bill's Own Story. 




IX foot two, broad chested, measuring fifty 
inches around, with a waist that you could 
almost span, a foot like a woman, long, blond 
hair, which glistened like gold in the sun 
light, and with muscles equalling any trained 
athlete or prize fighter, Wild Bill Hickok was a magnifi- 
cent specimen of manhood and one of the most deadly 
shots with rifle or pistol that ever lived. Moreover, he 
was an expert horseman, with nerves of steel and a heart 
as brave as a lion. 

Fiction in its wildest flights of imagination never 
chronicled a more thrilling episode than that which 
happened to Wild Bill — and what follows is an exact 
reproduction of his own story of the McCandlass gang 
fight — the greatest single-handed encounter and battle 

[51] 



Thrilling Lives 

ever fought — here are his exact words as told to Buffalo 
Bill, shortly after the fight : 

"I hardly know where to begin. I was at it for the 
Union all through the war. I don't like to talk of that 
McCandlass affair. It gives me a queer shiver when I 
think of those ten blazing men eager, literally, to pull my 
heart out and eat it. Lord, how wicked we men are 
down deep! 

"You see, this Jack McCandlass was the captain of a 
gang of horse thieves and murderers who were the terror 
of the border States. McCandlass was the biggest and 
most brutal of them all. Jim McCandlass was next. He 
was Jack's brother. One day I beat him, Jack, shooting 
at a mark, and then threw him, wrestling — and I didn't 
drop him as softly as you would a couple of poached eggs 
on toast, either — so he got savage-mad about it and swore 
that he would have his revenge on me some time. That 
was just before the war broke out, in April, '61, and we 
were already taking sides for the South or Union. Mc- 
Candlass and his gang were border ruffians in the Kansas 
row, and, of course, they went with the rebs. I forgot 
McCandlass, but he didn't forget me, it appears. I went 
Union. 

[S2l 



My God ! They'll Kill You ! 

"It was in '6i, when I was guiding a detachment of 
cavalry that was coming in from Camp Floyd. We had 
nearly reached the Kansas line, and were in South 
'Nebraska when one afternoon I went out of camp to go to 
the cabin of an old friend of mine, a Mrs. Waltman. I 
took only one of my revolvers with me, for although the 
war had broken out I didn't think it necessary to carry 
both my pistols on all occasions. In ordinary fights one 
is better than two — if you shoot straight. I saw some 
wild turkeys on the road as I was going down, and I 
shot one, thinking it would be just the thing for Mrs. 
Waltman's supper, for a wild turkey is very sweet eating. 
I rode up to Mrs. Waltman's, jumped off my horse and 
went into the cabin, which was like most of the cabins 
on the prairie, with only one room and two doors, one 
opening in front, the other to a sort of yard and pretty 
garden. 

" 'How are you, Mrs. Waltman ?' I said. 

"The second she saw me she turned as white as a corpse 
and actually screamed — 

" Ts that you, Bill ? Oh, my God ! They will kill you ! 
Run, run, or they will chop you all to bits.' 

" 'Who's going to kill me ?' I said. 

[53] 



Thrilling Lives 

" 'It's McCandlass and his gang ! There's ten of them, 
and you've no chance! They've just gone down the road 
to the corn rack! They came up here only five minutes 
ago ! McCandlass was dragging poor Parson Shipley on 
the ground with a lariat 'round his neck! McCandlass 
knows of you bringing in that party of Yankee cavalry 
and he swears he'll cut your heart out and eat it ! Run, 
Bill, run, like a good boy.' I was only twenty-three, then. 
*My God, you can't! It's too late! They're coming up 
the lane and they've seen your horse !' 

"All the time the poor lady was talking I was thinking 
that I had only one revolver, and a load — for the turkey — 
was gone out of that. On the table were a horn of powder 
and some little bars of lead. I poured some powder into 
the empty chamber and rammed the lead after it by 
hammering the barrel on the table, and had just capped 
the pistol w^hen I heard Jack McCandlass shout : — 

" 'Yes, it's that damned Yankee, Bill Hickok's, horse ! 
He's here ! Let's skin him alive !' 

"If I had thought of running before, it was then too 
late. I never dreamed that I should leave that room alive. 
Later something breathed on me and made me strong." 

Here Hickok stopped, rose to his feet and glided back 

[54] 



Wild Bill Prays 

and forth in great excitement. It was not acting. It 
was the real thing. He seemed to have forgotten us. He 
was hving in the past. 

"I tell you what it is, gentlemen. I don't mind a scrim- 
mage with these fellows around here. Shoot one or two 
of them and the rest will skedaddle hke a lot of fright- 
ened rats; but all of the McCandlass gang were reckless 
devils who could and would fight so long as they were 
able to stand, sit, shoot, stab, punch, tear or bite. That 
was one of the few times that I prayed, gentlemen. Since 
then I've prayed often. Prayer is wonderful to help 
out. 

" 'Surround the house and give the no quar- 
ter!' yelled McCandlass. When I heard that I felt as 
quiet and cool as if I were going to church with my 
father and mother and sisters. I looked around the room 
and saw a Hawkins rifle hanging over the bed. 'Is that 
loaded?' I asked Mrs. Waltman. 

" 'Yes,' the poor thing whimpered. She was so scared 
— and no wonder! — that she couldn't speak out loud. I 
felt guilty to have pulled the row off in her cabin. 

"'Are you sure?' said I, as I jumped on the bed and 
caught it from its hooks. She nodded yes again. Just 

[55] 



Thrilling Lives 

then McCandlass poked his head inside the doorway, but 
jumped back when he saw me with the Hawkins in my 
hands. 

" 'Come in, you dirty dog !' I shouted. My voice seemed 
to me to cross the Atlantic. McCandlass was a big bully, 
but not a rank coward. He jumped into the room with 
two hells in his eyes, his gun almost levelled to shoot the 
heart out of me, but he wasn't quick enough. The Lord 
must have delayed him, and my rifle ball tore the top of 
his head oflF. There was a dead silence as he fell back 
through the doorway. I put down the rifle on the bed 
and picked the revolver from it. Mrs. Waltman — bless 
her dear soul — had disappeared through the yard. I 
couldn't help inwardly smiling and saying, like an actor 
in a St. Louis stage play, 'Deserted on the eve of battle 
by my army !' 

''Only six shots and nine men to kill! I don't know 
how it was, but something really seemed to breathe on 
me just then and things seemed clear and fine and sharp. 
I could think strong. There were a few seconds of that 
up yonder silence, and then they came through both doors 
with a rush! How wild they looked, with their red, sin- 
splashed, crime-masked faces and flaming eyes, shouting 

[56] 



Wild Bill at Bay 

and saying things I was glad good Mrs. Waltman didn't 
hear. I never aimed more coolly in my life. One, two, 
three, four — and four men were dead, not wounded. I 
never wound. McCandlass made the number five. That 
didn't stop the remaining five. Two of them fired their 
bird guns at me and I felt fire run all over me. The room 
was full of smoke. Two got close to me, their eyes burn- 
ing like hell. One I knocked down with my fist. I think 
I broke his jaw. The other I shot dead. The three 
others crowded me onto the bed. 

"I had to fight fast. I broke one man's arm. He had 
his fingers round my throat and was tearing at it like a 
wildcat. Then I went wild as a grizzly — some one struck 
me across the breast with a rifle and I felt the blood 
rush from my nose, ears and mouth. Then I got ugly, 
bad, horrible, as all of them put together — cruel, crazy, 
sorry that there wasn't a roomful more of them — and I 
got a bowie somehow into my hand. Then it was all 
clouds, smoke, flame, blood, runaway stars, breaking suns, 
bursting moons, roaring seas of crimson, and as they tried 
to rise I slashed at their heads with the heavy backed 
bowie, chased them around the room, into corners, closed 
the doors so they couldn't escape, stabbed, chopped, 

[57] 



Thrilling Lives 

slashed breasts, arms, heads, faces, until I knew that every 
man was dead twice over !' 

''All of a sudden it seemed as if my heart were afire. 
I was bleeding everywhere, from knees to scalp. I stag- 
gered out to the well, drank from the bucket, and then 
tumbled, the bucket over my head soaked with blood — 
my own and theirs — and well water, over in a faint, just 
like a girl." 

Hickok was wounded by three bullets, eleven buck- 
shot, and was cut in thirteen places. It was six months 
before "Wild Bill" fully recovered from the result of 
what was one of the most thrilling exploits in border his- 
tory. 




[58] 



CHAPTER VI. 



How Buffalo Bill Won His Name. 




fN 1865, at the close of the war, Cody was dis- 
charged with honors. He had served his 
country well. He went to St. Louis and 
brought to a culmination the sweetest ro- 
mance of his life by marrying Miss Louisa 
Frederici. For a period the scout settled down to a 
quiet life and became a hotel proprietor by renting a 
hostelry in Salt Creek Valley, Kansas. He was a jolly 
"mine host," and it looked for a while as if the plains 
would lose one of its favored sons. But the call of the 
wild pleaded strongly, and once more Bill Cody donned 
the buckskin. 

The war had left its bitterness in many places. Cody 
was to see one instance that was anything from pleasant. 
Shortly after his wedding the happy pair started on a 
short journey. They boarded a Missouri River steamboat 
and headed for their new home in Kansas. 

[59] 



Thrilling Lives 

"I say, Cody," one gentleman remarked, after the boat 
had proceeded but a short way, ''the people on this boat 
don't seem to have any too great a love for you." 

Cody had noticed that several on board had pointed 
their finger at him and passed remarks that he could not 
plainly hear. 

"What does it mean?" Cody asked. "What are they 
saying? It's all a mystery to me." 

"They say that you are one of the Kansas jayhawkers, 
and one of Jennison's house-burners." 

"I am from Kansas, that's true; and was a soldier and 
scout in the Union army," Cody replied, "and I was in 
Kansas during the border ruffian war of 1856. Perhaps 
these people know who I am and that explains their hard 
looks." 

The second day out from St. Louis the boat stopped to 
wood up at a wild-looking landing. Suddenly twenty 
horsemen were seen galloping through the timber, and as 
they came nearer the boat they fired on the negro deck- 
hands, against whom they seemed to have a special grudge. 
The negroes jumped back on deck, from where they had 
been throwing on wood, and pulled in the gangplank. 

[60] 



Cody Meets Custer 

The steamer pulled out in the stream as the bushwhack- 
ers appeared on the bank. 

''Where is that abolition jayhawker?" shouted the 
leader. 

"Show him to us and we'll shoot him !" yelled another. 
But by this time the boat was well out and the incident 
closed. It was rather embarrassing for the newly wedded 
man to meet with such a reception as this; but he was 
equal to the occasion. Telegraphing from Kansas City, 
Cody had a party of his friends meet the steamer on its 
arrival, and the reception they got was more than gratify- 
ing to the young bride. 

In 1866-67 he acted as scout at Fort Fletcher, and later 
at Fort Hays. While there he met the gallant Custer for 
the first time. 

"Cody, I want a guide," Custer said, "to take myself 
and men to Fort Larned. Can you do it?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"When?" 

"I am ready to start now, sir," and Cody saddled up a 
big mule. 

"I want to travel fast ; do you think that mule of yours 
can keep up?" 

[6i] 



Thrilling Lives 

"General, never mind the mule," Cody replied; "he'll 
get there as soon as your horses." 

For the first fifteen miles, until they came to the Smoky 
Hill River, Cody had trouble in keeping his mount moving 
fast enough. But soon the animal struck its gait, and 
when the party reached Fort Larned, sixty-five miles 
away, Cody was in the lead. 

^'General, how about that mule?" asked the scout, with 
a smile. 

"You had a better vehicle than I thought," Custer said, 
laughing. 

A short time after this, while the Union Pacific was 
pushing its tracks westward, in the very heart of the 
buffalo country, the Indians being constantly on the war- 
path, it was difficult, almost impossible, to obtain fresh 
meat for the workmen. 

The Messrs. Goddard Brothers had the contract for 
supplying meat, and found themselves sorely pressed to 
live up to its terms. It was suggested that Cody, being 
a crack shot and thoroughly familiar with the plains, 
might be the very man they needed, as he could kill all the 
buffaloes necessary. They sent for the young man, an 
offer was made him of five hundred dollars a month for 

[62] 



Hunt for Buffalo 

all the fresh meat they would require. Cody accepted, 
and the next day started on a hunt. 

He rode a horse named Brigham, one that Cody be- 
lieved was the shrewdest and best plainsman's animal that 
ever lived. It did not take the hunter long to locate a 
buffalo herd. Just as he was preparing to make a charge 
a party of horsemen rode out from Fort Hays. They 
proved to be some newly arrived officers from the East, 
one being a Captain Graham and the others lieutenants. 

"Hello, my friend," called out the Captain, "I see you 
are after the same game as we are." 

"Yes, sir," Cody replied. "I saw the buffaloes coming 
over the hill and was just starting for some fresh meat 
for the railroad men." 

Cody's unassuming saddle outfit made a sad comparison 
with the excellent equipment of the soldiers. His horse in 
particular came in for a bit of joking. As a matter of 
fact the animal in his straps did not show to the best 
advantage. 

"Do you expect to catch buffaloes on that nag?" asked 
one. 

"I hope so, by pushing the reins hard enough." 

[63] 



Thrilling Lives 

"You'll never do it in the v^orld, young fellow," the 
Captain said. "It takes a fast horse." 
"Does it?" asked Cody innocently. 

"Yes, but come along with us — we're out for pleasure 
more than anything — all we want are the tongues and 
tenderloins, we'll be good to you, you can have the rest," 
the Captain added generously. 

"Much obliged. Captain, I'll follow you" — Cody had a 
twinkle in his eye. About a mile away was a herd of 
eleven fine buffaloes. The officers dashed ahead. Cody 
took in the situation at a glance. The herd started for a 
creek and the scout knew their nature well enough to 
realize the difficulty of turning them from their direct 
course. He sped towards the creek while the officers 
closed in the rear and gave chase. The herd came crashing 
by Cody not over a hundred yards away. He circled the 
band and in twelve shots the entire herd was sprawled 
on the blood-stained ground. He dismounted and was 
examining the buffaloes when the officers came up. 

"Gentlemen, allow me to present to you all the tongues 
and all the tenderloins that you wish from these carcasses," 
and Cody smiled graciously. 

[64] 




IRON TAIL, THE SIOUX CHIEF. 



Pursued by Indians 

•'By Jove, that was great work," pouted the Captain. 
"Who under the sun are you, anyway?" 

"My name is Cody." 

One of the junior officers had heard of the scout's feats 
in the expeditions that had gone before, and they all shook 
hands warmly, insisting that Cody return to the fort with 
them for a little celebration. That very night Indians 
made a raid on the horses. A detachment of colored sol- 
diers under Captain Graham, with Cody as scout, started 
in pursuit. Nearing sunrise he located the redskins and 
just as the charge was to be made one of the negroes 
in his excitement fired a gun. A dash was made but the 
Indians being warned and seeing they were outnumbered 
took to their horses and escaped. 

Cody resumed his work as meat provider for the rail- 
roaders. One day, in the Spring of 1868, he started for 
Smoky Hill River, where reports had it that large herds 
of buffaloes were grazing. On reaching the place he 
selected a knoll from which to make a charge and was 
just about ready when about half a mile away he discov- 
ered a party of about thirty Indians. That he had been 
seen the scout knew, as the Indians started for him on a 
mad gallop. 

[6s] 



Thrilung Livis 

"My only chance is to make a run for it," he mused, and 
wheeling his horse, started for the railroad camp. After 
a few hundred yards he turned, saw them coming, and saw, 
too, that they were gaining on him. Eight or nine of the 
yelping devils had closed the gap to about three hundred 
yards — one Indian in particular, who rode a fine spotted, 
swift-footed horse, annoyed Cody by sending frequent rifle 
bullets in unfriendly proximity to his head. 

"That's about enough for you," thought Cody, as one 
ball clipped the air near his ear. He pulled his horse up 
short, swung in the saddle with rifle to shoulder ; the Indian 
was eighty yards away and coming like mad. 

Bang! 

Down went the Indian's horse. 

Cody saw the effect of his shot and spurred on. The 
others were making big gains. By turning and shooting 
quickly, then dashing away, Cody laid several in the dust. 
The rest still kept up the chase, but Cody's horse had the 
staying power and soon outdistanced the maddened red- 
skins. Dashing into camp Cody secured a detachment of 
fifty soldiers and started after the Indians. It was just 
in time, too, as they had just overtaken one of the supply 
wagons of the railroad coming from another direction. 

[66] 



Cody in Peril 

At first fire from the soldiers the Indians retreated, only 
to renew the attack a second later. The battle waged for 
hours when, with a final charge by Cody and his men, the 
Indians fled, leaving five of their number dead on the 
plains. 

And so it went from day to day. Cody was in con- 
stant peril, but despite it all he stuck to the terms of his 
contract in supplying meat for the railroad. It was largely 
due to his sturdy efforts that the Union Pacific was able 
to make the progress it did. 

While hunting one day Cody met Kit Carson and his 
escort. The two were fast friends and spent several days 
together at Fort Hays. Cody's fame and success as a 
buffalo hunter spread far and wide. There were others 
that achieved success in the perilous game of buffalo hunt- 
ing and each treasured his own record. 

One in particular — Billy Comstock, a noted scout, guide 
and interpreter, then chief of scouts at Fort Wallace, Kan- 
sas, had the local distinction of being the champion buffalo 
hunter. There were others that thought Cody the best 
shot on the plains. When the subject was mentioned to 
the latter he had nothing to say, he was always modest, 
but when pressed agreed to enter any sort of a competition 

[67] 



Thrilling Lives 

that would leave no future doubts as to who was entitled 
to the laurels of champion. 

The officers had taken a great liking to Cody and be- 
lieved that as a buffalo hunter and all-around scout, guide 
and crack shot, his equal did not exist. A purse of 
five hundred dollars was raised and Comstock challenged 
to settle the matter of supremacy between him and Cody as 
buffalo hunters. The money was to go as a side bet. 

A condition of the hunt was that it should commence at 
eight in the morning and close at four in the afternoon, the 
winner to be considered as the champion buffalo hunter 
of the world. ->v 

These details were sent to Comstock, who was at th^t 
time known as ''Buffalo Bill Comstock." This title was 
also involved in the outcome of the shoot. He readily 
agreed to the terms, and the event was advertised far and 
wide. 

A point twenty miles east of Sheridan was selected as 
the place of contest. Hundreds of men and women assem- 
bled on the designated day, coming from St. Louis and 
many other cities. 

The day broke clear and cloudless, with just enough 
crisp in the air to make it invigorating. It was agreed that 

[68] 



Coor's New Feat 

the men should go into the same herd at the same time, 
each kilHng as many as possible. 

Comstock was mounted on his favorite horse, Cody rode 
Brigham. The referee gave the signal and the great 
hunt was on. Both men spurted for the herd, Comstock 
to the left and Cody to the right. Comstock got twenty- 
three, Cody shot thirty-eight, the entire number in the herd 
he was in. He was loudly applauded by the throng of 
spectators, who had been left a half mile away, until the 
charge was made, and then they closed in close to watch 
the shooting. 

After a short rest another herd was discovered. Com- 
stock shot fourteen and Cody eighteen, making the score 
fifty-six to thirty-seven in the young scout's favor. 

A halt was called for lunch ; good fellowship prevailed. 
With victory thus in sight and flushed with confidence, 
Cody proposed a feat that was astounding. 

"In the next trial, ladies and gentlemen, I will ride my 
horse without saddle or bridle," he announced — and good 
as his word, when the signal was given, Cody's horse had 
no harnessing of any kind. 

Guns popped, the hunters rode like mad, Cody cool and 
deliberate, taking his shots with such skill that it evoked 

[69] 



Thrilling Lives 

constant exclamations of wonder from the spectators. The 
plains were strewn with dead buffaloes. When the final 
score was announced it stood, Comstock forty-six, Cody 
sixty-nine. A tremendous cheer arose, Cody was smoth- 
ered with congratulations. 

"Three cheers for Bill Cody," some one suggested. 

''Wait — wait" shouted another — "let's give three for 
Bill Comstock, and then three rousing ones for the greatest 
hunter of them all and crown him with his new title — 
now, all together — three cheers for Buffalo Bill Cody!" 




^^' 



[70] 



CHAPTER VIL 



Sheridan's Chief of Scouts. 




HAVE important dispatches for General 
Sheridan, and my instructions from Cap- 
tain Parker, commanding Fort Lamed, are 
that they shall be delivered to the General 
as soon as possible," announced a courier, 
dust covered and fatigued from a hard ride. 
"Give them to me," an officer said. 
"I prefer giving them to General Sheridan myself and 
at once." Sheridan was asleep at the time — an orderly 
went to notify him of the courier's arrival, and it was none 
other than Buffalo Bill Cody. 

Shortly after the hunt in which he won his title Cody 
completed his work with the railroad, supplying in all four 
thousand two hundred and eighty buffaloes. He then re- 
turned to scout duty at Fort Lamed. He had been sent on 

[71] 



Thrilling Lives 

a mission to Fort Zarah, and completing it, started on the 
return to Fort Larned on a mule. 

Not a dozen miles had been covered when about forty 
Indians dashed up. 

"How, how," they exclaimed in friendly greeting. 

"How," Cody replied, eyeing them suspiciously, noting 
they wore their war paint. 

"Shake hands," an Indian said. 

Cody extending his in good will, it was seized with a 
sudden grasp, a tightening of grip and the scout was 
jerked violently forward, another grabbed the bridle and 
a second later Cody was completely surrounded. Then all 
grew black before him, he had been felled with the blow 
of a tomahawk dealt from behind. 

When he opened his eyes Cody found that he had been 
carried to an Indian village. There was a council going 
on and he was placed in the center of the chiefs, presided 
over by Santanta, a bloodthirsty and crafty redskin. The 
outlook was bad, and Cody realized it. Never for a mo- 
ment did he falter in bravery, his wits collected he knew 
that it was one chance in a hundred if he ever escaped, 
and if he did it would not be by force but by outscheming 

[72] 



CoDY^s Stratagem 

the Indians — just how he could not tell then, but the 
chance came and he was equal for the emergency. 

"Where have you been?" Santanta asked. 

"After cattle," came the quick reply — it flashed through 
Cody's mind that the Indians had been without meat for 
some time and that in their efforts to pacify the redskins 
meat had been promised them by a certain general. 

Santanta was interested at once. He eagerly questioned 
the scout. 

"I was sent by the General" — Cody lied glibly — "to tell 
you that the cattle were coming." 

"Good," grunted the old rascal, then, with a frown, 
"soldiers come, too?" 

"Yes." 

"General send cattle to us?" 

"Yes, I was ordered to bring them over here" — then in 
a bold tone — "why did your young men treat me so 
roughly, I came here friendly to you?" 

"Very sorry, all a mistake," and the wily chief smiled. 
Santanta was thinking hard. He wanted the cattle, but 
he did not want a fight with the soldiers. 

[73] 



Thrilling Lives 

"I was to bring the herd to the river there so you could 
get them," Buffalo Bill said with nonchalance. 

"Shall I send my young men with you?" 

"No, it is better for me to go alone — then the soldiers 
can go right on to Fort Larned while I drive the herd 
over the river for you." 

Santanta, believing that Cody was telling the truth, 
apologized for his unruly young men and permitted the 
scout to leave the village. Cody wheeled about, spurred 
his mule and rode away in the supposed direction of the 
cattle. 

All went well for a little while. He took his time in 
getting away, so as not to arouse suspicion, and then, 
when at a safe distance, he struck into a lively gait and 
swerved from his course, heading for the fort. He had 
gone but a short way when, upon looking back, saw that 
ten or twelve Indians were following him. They saw him 
turn, and in a flash realized that they had been hoaxed, 
started in pursuit. The chase continued until within a few 
miles of the fort, when finally Cody spied a government 
wagon with soldiers. 

"Into the brush, quick!" shouted Cody, "Indians 
coming." 

[74] 



For Gen'l Sherman 

The team was driven among the trees and hidden. A 
sharp turn had made the hiding successful from the In- 
dians. It wasn't a long wait before the redskins thundered 
along. Two of them passed the hiding place. 

"Give it to 'em," commanded Cody. 

Others had come up in the meantime and four feathered 
warriors toppled to the dust at first fire. Finally Buffalo 
Bill popped another from his horse, then realizing that 
they had been ambushed, the other Indians turned and 
fled. The scalps were taken along with their arms and 
equipment by Cody and soldiers. The next morning San- 
tanta with his entire force surrounded the fort. 

"Cody, the captain is anxious to send dispatches to Gen- 
eral Sheridan at Fort Hayes," one of the officers said, 
"and none of the men are willing to go, will you tackle it ?" 

"It's a risky trip, the country is full of hostile Indians," 
Cody replied, "but if no other scout is willing to volunteer 
I'll chance it. Give me a good horse and I'll start at dusk." 

A terrific rainstorm gathered in the later afternoon. By 
six o'clock it was impossible to see a dozen rods ahead. 
This added further peril to the undertaking which none 
would risk except brave Cody. 

[75] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Good-bye, Bill, and good luck," was the parting saluta- 
tion that greeted the scout's ears. He groped his way 
slowly. Only once during the night was he in real danger, 
and then he ran into an Indian outpost watching the vil- 
lage. The redskin had fallen asleep and Cody was on 
him in a flash. A heavy blow from Cody's rifle butt laid 
the Indian unconscious. He could just as easily have killed 
him, but it was not Cody's way of doing. It might be said 
here that in all the bloody times that Buffalo Bill went 
through, he never took a redman's life except to save his 
own. 

Cody got away without being seen or heard by those in 
the village. It was a sixty-mile grind. He reached Gen- 
eral Sheridan's headquarters just at sunrise. 

"Hello Cody, is that you!" greeted Sheridan, coming 
from his room. 

"Yes, sir — I have some dispatches here for you from 
Captain Parker." 

Sheridan read the papers carefully, and then Cody re- 
lated his experiences of the day previous. 

"Bill," Sheridan said, "you must have breakfast with 
[76] 



Greeted by Sheridan 

me. That was a good joke you played on Santanta. You 
have had a long, hard ride and must be tired." 

"A little weary, General." 

"Come, have breakfast with me." 

"Thank you sir, but I think I'll ride over to Hayes City, 
it's only a mile, and I have some friends there." 

"Very well, but come back, as I want to see you before 
you return to the fort." 

A short visit, a hearty meal and after handshaking 
around and a brief nap, Cody returned to headquarters and 
was about ready to leave for Fort Larned. Several scouts 
were gathered around headquarters and talking excitedly. 

"What's the matter?" asked Cody. 

"The General wants some one to carry dispatches to 
Fort Dodge." 

"That's about a ninety-five mile trip and a long one, too," 
Cody mused to himself, walking in to see the General as 
he had been requested. 

They had been talking a few minutes when the chief 
of scouts entered. "General," he said, "no one has vol- 
unteered to go to Fort Dodge." 

"Very well," Sheridan replied, with just a trace of a 
frown. 

l77] 



Thrilling Lives 

''General, if no one will volunteer I'll carry your dis- 
patches myself." 

"I had not thought of asking you to do this duty, Cody," 
the General responded, evidently pleased and in surprise, 
"as you are already pretty hard worked, but it is really 
important that these dispatches should go through." 

"If you don't get a courier by four o'clock, I'll be ready 
at that time," Cody answered. "All I want is a fresh 
horse, meantime I'll take a little more rest." 

Four o'clock came, but no volunteers. 

"General, I'm ready," Cody said, presenting himself to 
Sheridan. 

"Good luck go with you, my boy.*' 

The trip proved uneventful except for the hardship it 
entailed on the already worn-out courier. He arrived at 
Fort Dodge a little after nine next morning. The com- 
manding officer there had dispatches for Fort Larned, 
but, as before, no one cared to volunteer on the long, hard 
and dangerous ride. Cody again came to the front. 

"Give me a fresh horse and I'll carry them for you," 
he said. 

"I am sorry, but we haven't a decent horse here, but we 

[78] 



Danger-bestrewn Trip 

have a reliable and honest government mule, if that will 
do you." 

"Trot out your mule, that's good enough; I'm ready to 
start at any time." 

At dark the scout was on his way for Fort Larned. 
Thirty miles out he dismounted at a creek to drink. He 
had neglected to tie the lariat from the mule's bridle to 
his belt and the animal jerked loose, started down the 
creek at a trot. Try as he might, Cody could never over- 
take the beast. He coaxed and threatened to no advan- 
tage, and stranger yet, the mule struck the trail for Fort 
Larned and kept to it with the maddened scout walking on 
behind. Mile after mile this kept up. 

When day broke Cody was plodding on behind the jog- 
ging mule. *'Damn your tantalizing hide, take that," and 
a ball from Cody's rifle brought the recalcitrant mule to 
sorrow. 

Continuing on, Cody walked to the Fort, where he de- 
livered his messages, secured a new mount and the morn- 
ing after reported back to General Sheridan. Altogether 
he had ridden and walked three hundred and fifty-five 
miles within fifty-eight riding hours, a long and danger- 
bestrewn trip. 

[79] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Cody," General Sheridan said, after warmly compli- 
menting him on his remarkable feat, ''the Fifth Cavalry 
is going on an expedition against the Dog Soldier Indians 
— in recognition of your good and faithful work, I hereby 
appoint you as guide and chief of scouts with the com- 
mand." 




[80] 




A TYPICAL COWBOY AND HIS CHARGER. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



The Battle of Summit Springs. 




ALF-PAST nine and all's well," rang a sen- 
try's voice. Then there was a pause, the 
outpost next made no sound. "What the 
divil's the matter wid that other sentry?" 
asked an Irish sergeant of the Fifth Cavalry, 
"why don't he answer?" 

Fully ten minutes went by and still no sound. The 
sergeant mounted his horse and rode cautiously along the 
river bank to investigate. There was a rustle in the brush, 
then he heard the tread of the sentry. The sergeant 
called out, "Hallo there, why didn't ye answer the call?" 
and still getting no response, rode on over to where the 
sentry stood. It was one of the Pawnee Indians that had 
joined the expedition as scouts, under Major Frank 
North. There were several companies of them, and on ac- 
count of their excellent work they had been enrolled in the 

[81] 



Thrilling Lives 

regular army and assigned to many of the white soldiers' 
duties. 

That the Pawnees, who were the deadly enemies of the 
Sioux, were splendid warriors and rendered invaluable 
aid to the Fifth Cavalry was apparent, and at the same 
time it was equally apparent that the Pawnees had a hard 
time to master the English language and grow accustomed 
to the usages and routine of the regular army. 

"Hey, there, ye divil," exclaimed the sergeant, "why 
didn't you answer that call. That's what you're out here 
for, when we hear ye say 'all's well,' we know that the 
enemy isn't at hand." 

"Me forget — very hard for me to do that," answered 
the Pawnee scout. 

"See that you don't forget again — say something when 
the sentry next to you passes the word. Don't forget, 
now," and the sergeant rode away. 

Half an hour later the sentry cried : 

"Post number one, ten o'clock, and all's well." 

A minute's pause and then in no certain tones the 
Pawnee shouted : 

"Poss number half-pass five cents — go to hell — I don't 



[82] 



Pawnees on Parade 

There was a rumble of laughter from the men. The 
system was found impractical, and the Pawnee scouts 
were thereafter relieved from sentry duty. This was not 
the only laugh that the hard-fighting Pawnees gave their 
white soldier friends. While the Fifth Cavalry was at 
Fort McPherson awaiting the completing of its equipment, 
a general dress parade was ordered, and the Indian scouts 
were in their glory. It was the first opportunity that they 
had had to display themselves in the full regalia of a 
soldier of Uncle Sam. When the bugle sounded for the 
review the Pawnees appeared dressed as if for a scene in 
comic opera. Some of them had on their heavy overcoats, 
others large black hats, with all the brass accoutrements 
attached. Others wore the regulation pants but had no 
shirts and were bareheaded. Others again had the seat of 
the pants cut out, leaving only leggings; some of them 
wore brass spurs, but had on no boots or moccasins. 

Despite all this, they were good soldiers, hard riders, 
crack shots and desperate fighters. The order was given 
and the command moved on up the Republican River. The 
next morning shots were heard along with the whoops 
of Indians in the vicinity of the mule herd which had been 
taken down to water. 

[83] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Indians are there!" shouted a herder as he staggered 
int® camp with an arrow sticking in his shoulder. 

Cody was mounted in a second, and followed by a band 
of the Pawnees, made for the watering place. It took 
only a few seconds of fighting to disperse the attacking 
party. A running fight of fifteen miles was engaged in, 
resulting in several of the marauding Indians being killed. 
It was during the chase that Buffalo Bill, mounted on one 
of the fleetest of horses, was overtaken and passed by a 
Pawnee, who was riding one of the swiftest animals that 
Cody had ever seen. After the fight Bill swapped his 
horse, some tobacco and other trinkets and secured the 
Indian's horse, which he named "Buckskin Joe." 

The Pawnees had been sent out to kill fresh meat and 
soon had a herd of bufifaloes surrounded, there were 
twenty Indians in the party, and in all they killed thirty 
animals. Just then another herd hove in sight, Cody 
dashed away and in a very short time had strewn thirty- 
six bison along a half mile of prairie single handed. The 
Indians after this held the scout in the very highest esteem. 

The command moved on up the Republican River. In- 
dian tracks were found which Cody discovered were made 
by the Sioux. He was sent out with a small party of 

[84] 



Sound the Charge! 

Pawnees to try to locate the band. The day after Buffalo 
Bill came on fresh tracks and was astounded upon close 
examination to discover the imprints of a woman's shoe. 
Word was sent to General Carr. Orders were issued for 
a forced march. 

Cody was then about ten miles in advance of the army. 
He saw that he was nearing the village of the Indians, 
and sent word back for extreme caution to be exercised. 
Keeping the command wholly out of sight until it was 
within a mile of the Indian village, Carr commanded the 
soldiers to close up, and at his order make a dash for the 
village. 

"Sound the charge," General Carr called out — ^but the 
bugler was struck dumb with fear at the sight of hun- 
dreds of Indians. Again the General issued the order, 
but the bugler could get no command of his lips. 

'I'll do it," shouted Quartermaster Hays, seizing the 
bugle, sounding the charge, tossing the horn away and 
grasping a revolver in each hand, sprang out with the 
leader. 

The Indians had just driven up their horses and were 
preparing to break camp when they heard the bugle notes 
and saw the soldiers rushing down upon them. Many 

[85] 



Thrilling Lives 

succeeded in getting to their ponies and fled in precipitate 
haste, others leaving everything behind in the camp ad- 
vanced out of the village, and with true Sioux determina- 
tion prepared to meet the attacking party of whites. 

On came the soldiers, yelling and shooting, they stopped 
for nothing, but plunging straight through the camp they 
left a trail of dead and wounded on every side. Buffalo 
Bill was engaged in a hand-to-hand conflict, when above 
the din and roar of battle he heard a woman scream. A 
quick thrust with his knife and his Indian antagonist 
rolled to the ground writhing in agony. Cody broke for 
the teepee whence the screams came. He reached there 
just in time to save one of the white captives from being 
tomahawked by the squaw of Tall-Bull. 

The captive, though badly wounded, told that she and 
another woman had been taken prisoners after the Indians 
had robbed and killed all the male whites of a settlement 
not far away. The other woman had been slain by the 
squaw just as the soldiers entered the village. 

By orders of General Carr, all the effects of the Indians 
were burned, the injured woman was taken under care 
by the surgeons. Cody rode on to reconnoiter. The Sioux 
were not long in gathering together their scattered forces 

[86] 



Cody Kills Chief 

and returned to battle the whites. Buffalo Bill was on the 
skirmish line and in the hottest part of the fight. One 
Indian in particular seemed to be the chief and it was the 
following out of his orders that led to disaster for the 
soldiers. Cody determined to put a stop to his career. Dis- 
mounting from his horse the brave scout crept to a ravine 
where he could command a better view, though placing 
himself in greater peril. 

The chief dashed by and yelled commands in his lan- 
guage. Cody could understand enough to let him know 
that the chief was urging his people to make it a do-or-die 
affair, and just then the scout's rifle cracked. The Indian 
rolled to the dirt. He had been mounted on an excellent 
horse which, as soon as he was riderless, in place of turning 
back to the Indians, made straightway for the soldiers and 
was captured. In token of the shot he had made the 
horse was presented to Buffalo Bill. The fallen Indian 
proved to be Tall Bull, one of the most wicked of all 
the Sioux chiefs. 

That ended the battle. For his noble work General Carr 
received a vote of thanks, as did Buffalo Bill, from the 
Legislatures of both Nebraska and Colorado. Not long 
after this Buffalo Bill met for the first time Col. E. B. C. 

[87] 



Thrilling Lives 

Judson, known better as Ned Buntline, a famous writer. 
Buntline became very much interested in the great scout, 
effects of which were to manifest themselves at a later 
date. In the Spring of 1871 General Emory, who was 
then in command of Fort McPherson, called Cody to his 
quarters. 

"Cody, there has been so much petty deviltry going on 
in this neighborhood that I want it stopped," he said, 
"and the best way that I knew was to get an appointment 
for you as justice of the peace." 

"General, you compliment me too highly," Cody replied, 
blushing; "I don't know anything more about law than a 
government mule does about bookkeeping." 

"That doesn't make any difference," he said, "you will 
make a good squire." 

And so he did. For several weeks he busied himself 
with the various things that came to him under his new 
routine of duties. Finally he was called upon to perform 
a marriage ceremony. The bridegroom was one of the 
sergeants of the company. This was a stunner to the 
scout. He looked through all the available books at hand 
to find the mode of procedure, but nothing came to his 
rescue. Finally he picked up the "Statutes of the State 

[88] 





%m 



f. .'.V \ 






^^ var||i 



THE ILLUSTRIOUS LIFE OF BUFFALO BILL. 
From Original Sketches. 



Cody a "Marrying Parson" 

of Nebraska," thinking possibly somewhere there he would 
find instruction — he looked in vain. The time approached 
for the wedding and nothing daunted, Cody determined to 
do the very best he could. 

"Do you take this woman to be your lawful wife?" he 
said bravely, when the pair stood before him, "and prom- 
ise to support and love her through life ?" 

"I do," was the reply. 

Then he repeated the question to the young woman ; she 
answered in a manner that was satisfactory. 

"Then join hands — I now pronounce you to be man and 
wife, and whomsoever God and Buffalo Bill have joined 
together let no man put asunder. May you live long and 
prosper. Amen." 



[89I 



CHAPTER IX. 



Entertains Royalty at Buffalo Hunt. 




HfBOUT the firs,t of January, 1872, General 
Forsyth journeyed to Fort McPherson to 
make preparations for a big buffalo hunt 
at which the Grand Duke Alexis of Russia 
was to be the chief guest of honor. Cody in- 
formed him that there were plenty of buffaloes in the 
vicinity, especially on the Red Willow, sixty miles away. 
Buffalo Bill was commissioned by the representatives of 
General Sheridan, who was arranging the hunt, to visit 
Spotted Tail's camp, one of the Sioux warriors, 
located somewhere on Frenchman's Fork, nearly a 
hundred and fifty miles from Fort McPherson. The pur- 
pose of the visit was to induce about a hundred of the 
Indian warriors and chiefs to come to the Grand Duke's 
camp, so that the latter could see the Indians and observe 
the manner in which they killed buffaloes. 

[91] 



Thrilling Lives 

Cody guided the party to Red Willow with a small 
escort of armed men, and left them there while he pro- 
ceeded alone. The weather was very cold, there was 
more or less danger from the Indians, for although Spotted 
Tail himself was friendly, it might prove a dangerous 
task to enter the camp. As he had during the past few 
years made many enemies among the Sioux in the differ- 
ent battles, there was a possibility of meeting them at 
any time. 

From fresh horse tracks and the dead buffaloes lying 
here and there, Cody knew that he was nearing Spotted 
Tail's camp. He rode on a few miles farther, then hiding 
his horse in a low ravine, crawled up a high hill where he 
had a good view of his surroundings. Four or five miles 
straight ahead he saw a number of Indian ponies and 
knew that the camp must be near by. Waiting until night- 
fall, he mounted and rode into the camp unobserved. 

Cody wrapped a blanket around his head, leaving just 
enough room to see, and rode around until he found the 
chiefs tent, then dismounting threw back the flap and en- 
tered. He was cordially greeted. Spotted Tail, when he 
knew the request came from General Sheridan, accepted 
the invitation. 

[9^] 



Meets Grand Duke 

Next morning the chiefs and warriors were assembled 
according to orders, and to them was stated the object of 
the scout's visit. 

"Do you know who this man is?" asked Spotted Tail, 
pointing to Cody. 

"Yes, we know him well," replied one, "that is Pa-he- 
haska (which means long hair in the Sioux language), 
that is our old enemy." 

"That is he," returned Spotted Tail," I want all our 
people to be kind to him and treat him as my friend." 

Cody returned to Red Willow. Great preparations were 
being made for the hunt. Everything was finally in readi- 
ness, when on the morning of January 12, 1872, the Grand 
Duke and his suite arrived at North Platte by special train, 
Cody and a delegation of soldiers were at the train to 
meet them. 

"Cody," General Sheridan said, "this is the Grand 
Duke Alexis. I am going to ask you to take charge of 
him, and show how you kill buflfaloes." General Custer 
was one of the party that witnessed the war dance given by 
the Indians that night. Morning broke with a fine sun 
shining warmly. Just as the party were about to start 

[93] 



Thrilling Lives 

for the hunting grounds some one came up to Cody and 
said that Mr. Thompson did not have a horse. 

"What Thompson?" asked Cody. 

"Why, Mr. Frank Thompson, who has charge of the 
Duke's train." 

Cody had following him "Buckskin Joe," his celebrated 
war horse. This animal was not a very prepossessing 
thing to look at. He was buckskin in color, and rather a 
sorry-looking animal, but was known all over the fron- 
tier as the greatest long-distance and best buffalo horse 
living. Cody had never allowed anyone but himself to 
ride this horse, but as he had none other there at the time 
he ordered it bridled and saddled, and told Mr. Thompson 
he could ride him until another could be secured. 

This horse looked so different from the beautiful ani- 
mals that the rest of the party were supplied with that 
Thompson thought it rather discourteous to mount him in 
such fashion. As Thompson rode past the wagons and 
the ambulances he noticed the teamsters pointing at him, 
and thinking they were guying him, he rode up to one of 
them. 

"Am I not riding this horse all right?" he asked. 

[94] 



Better Try Mine 

Thompson felt some personal pride in his horsemanship 
ability. 

"Yes, sir," the driver replied, "you are riding all right." 

"Well, then," Thompson said, "it must be the horse 
that you men are guying." 

"Guying that horse!" the teamster exclaimed in sur- 
prise. "Not in a thousand years." 

"Well, then, why am I such a conspicuous object?" 

"Why, sir, aren't you the king?" 

"The king — why do you take me for the king?" 

"Because you are riding that horse. I guess you don't 
know what horse you are riding, do you? Nobody gets 
to ride that horse but Buffalo Bill. So when we all saw 
you riding him we supposed of course that you were the 
king, for that horse, sir, is Buckskin Joe." 

Thompson felt relieved, and afterwards thanked Cody 
for the honor of allowing him such a mount. 

It was planned that the Grand Duke was to have the 
first shot. The nobleman elected to use his pistol. At the 
first sight of the herd the Russian galloped at them, firing 
six times without scoring a hit. 

"Better try mine," Cody suggested, handing over his 
revolver. But the next six shots went as before, and Cody 

[95] 



Thrilling Lives 

seeing that the herd would get away from them rode to 
the Duke's side. 

"Take my rifle and I'll give you the word when to 
shoot." The nobleman was now mounted on Buckskin 
Joe, and as he took the gun Cody swatted the animal, 
Joe gave a jump and took the Duke to the buffaloes' 
side. 

"Now's your time," shouted Buffalo Bill, and the Rus- 
sian fired, killing his first buffalo. Afterwards, on the re- 
turn to camp, Alexis shot a buffalo with his pistol ; it was 
either a remarkably good shot or a scratch, but none of 
the party cared which, and the Duke was given a rousing 
cheer. 

One day the Duke asked Cody to get the Indians out 
for a buffalo hunt.- Spotted Tail selected several of his 
best hunters, armed them with bows and arrows and had 
them surround a herd, bringing the animals down with 
arrows and also lances. 

"I will show you a remarkable shot," Cody said a second 
later, calling upon an Indian named Two Lance to do one 
of the most difficult feats that has ever been accom- 
plished with bow and arrow. The Indian rode into the 
herd and with string pulled tight sent an arrow straight 

[96] 











theFAMOUS GENERALSoftheU.S.ARMY 

BUFFALO BILL 



Thrilung Stage Drive 

through a buffalo's body. The arrow was given to the 
Duke as a souvenir. Buffalo Bill astounded the Royal 
party by his own expertness with rifle and pistol. 

"Get in here, Cody," General Sheridan said on the 
way back, *'and show the Duke how you can drive a stage 
coach." It was a thrilling run with the General and his 
royal friend hanging on all the time. 

"How was that?" the Duke was asked when the horses 
came to a stop. 

"Very fine, but I prefer to go a little slower," he re- 
plied smiling. 

The hunt had been a great success and Buffalo Bill was 
warmly complimented by General Sheridan. 

"By the way, Bill," Sheridan said, "you have an invita- 
tion from several of the gentlemen who were on the hunt 
with us at Hays City, to visit New York; you will never 
have a better time than now. Write a letter to General 
Stage, of Chicago, and he will send you a pass. I have 
had a talk with General Ord and he will give you a leave 
of absence whenever you are ready to start." 

"Thank you, General." 

General Ord granted the leave readily, and as Buffalo 
Bill was stepping out of the room he said : 

[97] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Cody, how would you like a commission in the regular 
army? General Sheridan and I have been talking the 
matter over and it can be arranged for you without any 
trouble." 

"I am much obliged, General, but I guess just being a 
plain scout is good enough for me." 

Cody was received in the East with open arms ; he was 
a guest of honor at many homes, and time flew by very 
rapidly. It was the first trip East, but his reputation had 
preceded him, he was the cynosure of all eyes, and mightily 
embarrassed to be stared at from morning until night. 
Among the entertainments prepared for the great scout 
was an invitation to a very exclusive masked ball. The 
very best of society was there. Its brilliance dazzled 
Cody. 

"What did you think of that?" he was asked the next 
day. 

"Reminds me of an Indian war-dance," he naively 
replied. 

It was on this occasion that he visited the theatre for 
the first time. The play on the boards was a border drama 
called "Buffalo Bill." As soon as the audience recognized 

[98] 



We Need You ! 

him sitting in a box, there was a shout and cheers and 
calls for a speech. 

"I'll give you five hundred dollars if you will play the 
leading role," the manager said. 

"Not on your life," blushed the bashful Cody. At thav 
time he would rather have faced a thousand warriors on 
the plains than gone on the stage before all those people. 

A few days after Cody met General Sheridan. 

"Bill, are you having a good time?" 

"Say, General, this is the best camp I ever struck — ^my 
furlough is about up; couldn't you extend it about ten 
days?" 

"Yes, gladly; but after that Cody, you must get back 
to Fort McPherson, there is to be an expedition sent out 
and we will need you there." 



[99] 



CHAPTER X. 



Pawnee Bill's Boyhood Days. 




g rti 



AY, are you Trapper Tom Evans?" 

"Yes, young fellow, what do you want?" 
the other answered coldly. 

"Just to tell you that I am going to work 
for you." 
"The deuce you say." 
"When do I begin?" 

"By thunder I like your nerve, never saw you in my 
life before and now you just make up your mind to go to 
work for me without asking any one's permission. 
Where'd you come from?" 
"Ran away from home." 
"How did you get down here in Oklahoma ?" 
"Walked most of the way." 
"What for?" 
"Looking for work." 

[lOl] 



Thrilling Lives 

"What's your name?" 

"Gordon W. Lillie." 

"Can you shoot?" 

"Some." 

"Ride?^' 

"Some." 

"Got any grit?" 

"Some." 

"Alright, we'll try you out." 

Gordon was at this time a lad of seventeen, of 
sturdy figure, frank in manner, sharp blue eyes, and a chin 
that stood for determination. He was born in Blooming- 
ton, Illinois, February 14, 1860. Newton W. Lillie, his 
father, owned one of the largest flour mills in the city and 
was very prosperous. Gordon received a high school edu- 
cation. The family had planned that the lad was one day 
to go into the mill and eventually succeed to the business. 
But the youngster had plans of his own, he was just in the 
impressionable age and he did what most high-spirited self- 
willed young men would have done under the circum- 
stances. He ran away from home. 

Tales of the West had inspired fanciful dreams of easily 
gotten wealth and it was quest of that rather than a 

[102] 



Runs Away 

bloodthirsty desire to fight Indians that prompted Gordon 
W. Lillie to hazard Fate in unknown lands. 

Just about this time the father conceived the plan of 
moving to Kansas and erecting there the first flour mill in 
the southeastern part of the state. With his wife, Susan 
Ann Lillie, one son, Albert, and two daughters, Newton 
Lillie started for the south. From Bloomington the 
journey was made by train to Wichita and then to Well- 
ington by wagon. 

"Mother," Gordon said when alone with her, "I am not 
going with you and the family." 

"My son," exclaimed she in surprise, "you must not be 
foolish, come." 

"No, mother, I am going to strike out for myself, and 
see if I can't make my way alone." 

The mother pleaded in vain for a long time, then seeing 
that the lad was determined and knowing his nature con- 
sented to his leaving. 

"Promise me, Gordon," she said, "that no matter where 
you are or what you are doing, that you will always think 
first of me and whether I would be proud of your under- 
taking. Promise me that you will think twice before you 
act, that you will always help the weak, be generous with 

[103] 



Thrilling Lives 

those that are deserving, avoid trouble. You are going 
into strange lands, you will be a stranger, you will find 
temptations of all kinds, do not gamble and do not drink. 
Do you promise?" 

"I do, mother." 

Gordon a few days after loitered along the main street 
in Wichita ; it suited his fancy, there were cowboys, gam- 
blers and the motley throng incident to border towns in the 
early days. 

For a week the experiences he was injected into inter- 
ested him, it was something new, something out of the rut 
of home life, and for the first time he commenced to realize 
that he was thrown on his own resources, that he had his 
own battle to fight. He made friends quickly. His jovial 
good nature installed him as a general favorite. 

"Hello son, you look lonesome," a burly cowpuncher 
said one night as Lillie was watching a play at cards in 
the "Good Luck" gambling house, "have a drink." 

"Never touch it." 

"Come on have a drink I say," and the bully edged close 
to him, "you tenderfeet can't learn to be men any younger ; 
hurry up, barkeeper, give Mother's baby a drink. I'm 
going to make a man of him." 

[104] 



Meets Desperado 

It might be noted here, that to refuse the hospitality 
such as was offered, constituted about as deadly an insult 
as could be given. Of course, Gordon did not know this 
or if he did he didn't care. 

"Go on Kid, humor him," whispered a bystander "take 
a drink." 

Before Lillie had a chance to move one way or the 
other, the drunken cowboy dealt him a terrific blow in the 
face. Gordon caught himself on the bar railing, steadied 
for a moment and then planted his fist square on the cow- 
boy's nose. 

The latter reeled and tumbled to the floor senseless. 

"Holy smoke, Kid run, he'll kill you," yelled the bar- 
tender. 

"I guess not," calmly replied Lillie, adjusting his coat. 

"Come on get away before he comes to, don't you know 
who that is?" pointing to the figure on the floor, now 
slowly moving in a struggle to regain his feet. 

"No, and I don't give a damn, I guess if there is to be 
any education of tenderfeet around here I'll take a hand 
in the teaching." 

"Got a gun?" 

"No." 

[105] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Take this one and look out, you're a game boy, but 
you're going against a tough proposition when you snag 
'gainst 'Trigger Jim.' " 

Lillie shoved the g^n back as the cowboy was getting to 
his feet. 

"What in hell fell on me," muttered Trigger Jim, wip- 
ing the blood from his face, then seeing Lillie, "oh, yes, 
it was you wasn't it," and reached for his pistol. Gordon 
was too quick, he pounced on him like a panther, both 
rolled to the floor, a smashing thud and Trigger lay quiet. 

"Guess he'll be good now for a while," mused Lillie. 

With the first sign of the struggle, the gambling stopped, 
one or two of the players ducked behind the tables, others 
used the stove as a shield to protect them from the bullets 
that everyone expected to see fly when Trigger Jim got up 
the first time. He was a genuine bad man. 

"Say sonny you're alright, but take my tip and scoot, 
that fellow is a bad actor and you're made of too good 
stuflF to carry a pound or so of his lead around in your 
hide as a souvenir." 

Gordon listened to the well-intentioned advice. 

"Any way," he mused going through the doors, "guess 
I don't want too much excitement for a starter. This town 

[io6J 



LiLLiE Won't Gamble 

seems to be able to accommodate a fellow with most any 
kind of trouble he isn't looking for." 

He jogged down the street. The whole town was in a 
buzz, every second building was a saloon and gambling 
house. Men of all creeds and classes jostled each other, 
beneath every coat on the right hand side rearwards was 
the usual hump that bespoke a shooting iron, and there 
were many with notched handles. It was too early to go 
to bed. He strolled into another saloon, walked over to a 
faro table and sat down to watch the play. It was exciting 
and the hum and whirr of it all suited the lad to a dot. 
Stacks of money were seen everywhere, gold and silver 
in more quantities than he ever dreamt existed. The dealer 
was called Lame Bill, a wheezened old man with only one 
eye. He nodded to Lillie. 

"Want a stack?" 

"No, never play." 
Several of the gamblers looked up, one or two laughed 
and the play went on. 

"What do those dealers make a day ?" Gordon asked an 
onlooker. 

"Eight to ten dollars, some of 'em get more when the 
boss aint looking." 

"Pretty risky stealing aint it?" 
[107] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Sometimes — if they get caught — Old Bill there is 
dead square — he ain't got enough education to be crooked. 
Have a drink?" 

"No thanks, just had one." Gordon smiled to him- 
self. He sat there for an hour, the heat, the tobacco smoke 
and the liquor fumes made him drowsy. He fell asleep. 
Suddenly there was a crash and loud swearing. Gordon 
awoke with a start. All was in confusion, the play had 
stopped, men scurried under cover. Several pistol shots 
rang out. From where he was behind the stove Gordon 
could not see the front part of the saloon. 

"What^s happened," he asked a fellow crouching beside 
him. 

"Shut up," the other whispered. "It*s Trigger Jim 
fuller than a beer keg and he's looking for some one." 

It didn't take Lillie long to figure out the object of the 
ruffian's search. He sat quiet. 

"Where is he, that infernal young tenderfoot?" roared 
Jim. 

"He ain't here, Jim," declared the bartender from a 
safe hiding place behind a pile of barrels, "he went out 
five minutes ago." 

"It's a lie, he thinks he can lick me, I'll show him, I'll 
[io8] 



Jim's Girl Pleads 

show you all there ain't no man living what can lick 
Trigger Jim." 

Bang! bang, and the bullets from the maddened cow- 
boy's pistol shattered the back bar mirror. No one stirred. 
Trigger was too well known, his aim was too quick and 
deadly for anyone to foolishly try to pacify him in his 
frenzy. The crowd figured that when he had given vent 
to his spleen he would leave. Just then a woman opened 
the doors. It was Jim's girl. 

"Come on home, Jim," she urged. 

"Shut up, I'll come home when I get good and ready." 

The woman stood still in the doors and looked at him 
pleadingly. 

"Get out I say or I'll throw you out," raged the drunken 
cowboy, lurching toward her with unsteady step. 

"Jim you're crazy drunk, come on home." 

"Drunk am I ? Crazy am I ? Take that," swinging his 
clenched fist at the woman's head. She fell in a heap and, 
unbalanced by the momentum of his blow, he tumbled to 
the floor beside her. He struggled to his feet. Lillie had 
watched the brutal assault, no one raised a hand to help 
the woman. Lillie was at the cowboy's side in a second. 

"That don't go, you cur," he said, kicking the pistol from 

[109] 



Thrilling Lives 

Jim's hand. "No hitting women when Fm around," and 
as the cowboy rose Lillie dealt him a smacking blow, send- 
ing him half way across the room. 

**Boys, take care of the woman, and when that bully 
comes to, tell him that I'll pull his nose the next time I 
see him." 

The crowd was struck dumb with amazement. Not a 
word was spoken as he pushed through the swinging 
doors. 

"Guess if I want to keep out of really thrashing some 
one to-night I'd better go to bed," and suiting action to 
the word, undressed and was soon fast asleep. Shortly 
before daybreak there was a loud knocking on his door. 

"Who's there?" 

"It's Pete, the landlord, open up quick." As soon as 
Gordon let him in, he continued, "Say Kid, you've got 
yourself hooked up to a bunch of trouble." 

"What's the matter?" 

"Trigger Jim has been gunning for you all night — says 
he's going to kill you on sight — some one told him that 
you were stopping here.. Get up and get out quick, it's 
your only chance." 

[no] 



Aim Straight 

"He's bluffing, I licked him twice last night, he don't 
want any more." 

"I tell you he's sober now, the last punching you gave 
him did it, he ain't used to be licked by anyone and it hurt 
his pride." 

"I guess his nose too," and Lillie smiled. 

"He means business this time Kid, you'd better get away 
while you can." Just then angry talking was heard down 
stairs. 

"L€t me at him, it's him or me this time, I'll shoot at 
sight." 

There was no mistaking, Jim's voice or the sincerity of 
his intention. Gordon dressed in a second. 

"Got a gun?" asked Pete. 

"No." 

"Take mine, slip out the back way, when you see him 
shoot, or he'll get you," and added Pete, "do the town a 
good turn by aiming straight, now go." 

It didn't take the news long to spread that there was to 
be a shooting match. They all knew Trigger Jim's ability 
and from what they had seen of Lillie the night before 
they had good reason to believe that the youngster wasn't 
going to run away. In times like this everyone found it 

[III] 



Thrilling Lives 

safer to remain until one or the other got his man. If the 
inward well wishes of the town counted for anything 
Gordon went doubly armed. 

"By thunder," he said to himself, "things are moving 
lively for me, I come for work and get astraddle a bunch 
of trouble that would nearly make a fellow quit, and here 
this chap is insisting on decorating a grave with my body. 
Guess it looks like business this time." Quickly examining 
the revolver and testing it he turned the corner, gun in one 
hand, his coat in the other. It was not yet daylight, a 
heavy mist gathered and deepened the slow breaking dawn. 
It was difficult to see more than a hundred feet ahead. 
Keen-eyed and ears alert Lillie started up the street. Sud- 
denly a head popped around the corner and then jerked 
back again. 

"As I thought," he muttered, "any man that strikes a 
woman is a coward, this fellow isn't going to fight in the 
open." 

A pistol hammer clicked. 

Then a dead silence. 

Lillie stopped, he could hear Jim breathing. He was 
waiting for the youngster to reach the corner. Gordon 
made up his own mind quickly. 

[112] 




THE LATE KING EDWARD VII. 
In the Wild West Camp at Olympia, London, England. 



The Duel 

He walked straight ahead, until within ten feet of the 
corner, then coughed, and threw his coat straight ahead, 
it passed the corner where Jim was lying in wait. 

Bang, and a flash of flame spurted from Jim's pistol. 

The ruse worked. 

*'I got you, you little pup," yelled Jim jumping out in the 
open as he saw the coat fall. 

Then seeing how he had been tricked, wheeled and fired 
point blank at Lillie. Two shots rang out at the same in- 
stant. Trigger Jim pitched headlong to the street. Lillie 
wiped a trickle of blood from his own ear which had been 
creased by Jim's bullet. 

Within a few seconds after the shooting the crowd col- 
lected, they found Gordon bending over Jim's dead body. 

"Guess he's dead, boys ; sorry, but I had to do it." 

"Gentlemen," the sheriff said, who had in the meantime 
arrived, and heard the entire story, "the first twelve of you 
men there step forward, rest of you stand back. That's it 
now, gentlemen of the jury this young feller here has just 
pulled a killing on Trigger Jim. Is he guilty or not 
guilty?" 

"Not guilty," came the answer in one accord. 

[113] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Thank you men, the jury is discharged," the sheriff 
said, "some of you fellers dig a hole back yonder and do 
a little planting, guess where Jim's gone it won't do no 
good to have the preacher do his spiel." Then turning to 
Lillie, "Young feller you're alright, shake." 

The crowd dispersed. Gordon went to the boarding 
house, packed up his things and left. He struck out for 
Indian Territory on foot, a walk of a hundred and sixty 
miles south. Being unfamiliar with the lay of the country 
he mistook the trail and found himself on the bottom lands 
which had overflowed from the Kansas River. He was 
often compelled to walk through water varying from knee 
to hip deep. 

It was on the second day out that he met Trapper Tom 
Evans and his party. Working wifh them appealed more 
to Lillie than to continue his hard walk. 

"What happened to your ear?" asked Trapper Tom, 
"it's bleeding." 

"Oh, just scratched it," Gordon replied, "on a briar 
brush." 



[114] 



CHAPTER XL 



Buffalo Bill as an Actor. 




URING the Fall of 1872, Buffalo Bill 
received many letters from Ned Buntline, 
whom it will be recalled met the great 
scout some time previous during a hunt of 
the plains. Buntline had been very success- 
ful as a magazine writer. 

"Come East, Cody," he wrote, "I'll make an actor out of 
you. There's money in it, you'll prove a big success." 

Cody had only recently been elected to the Legislature 
and was just settling down in a comfortable home. His 
friends with whom he spoke about venturing on the stage 
urged him against it. But Buntline was persistent, and 
finally Buffalo Bill capitulated. He sent for Texas Jack, 
one of his friends and a noted scout. They left for 
Chicago amid the good will and misgivings of many 
friends. Buntline met them at the depot. 

[115] 



Thrilling Lives 

"Well boys," he greeted, "are you ready for business?" 

"I can't exactly answer that," Cody replied. "For we 
don't know much about this acting business." 

"Come with me," Buntline reassured the two plains- 
men, "we'll see the manager of the amphitheatre, that's 
where we play, opening there on Monday night." 

The details of making a contract with the manager were 
soon arranged. 

"Have you your company Buntline," the manager asked. 

"Not yet, but it won't be hard to get, there are always 
a lot of idle actors hanging loose around Chicago." 

"Give me an idea of your play and I may be able to help 
you pick the cast, I know where most of the actors are. 
We haven't much time to loose." 

"I haven't written the play yet," Buntline returned. 

"What the deuce do you mean, no play, no actors and 
here it's Wednesday, and you are to open on Monday 
night, it's preposterous, Buntline I cancel your contract." 

"That's alright about the contract, how much do you 
want for the theatre for one week?" 

"Six hundred dollars." 

"You're on, here's half of it in advance, come along 
boys." 

Cii6] 



Here We Stick 

The trio went to the hotel, Buffalo Bill and Texas Jack 
to have a nap and Buntline hustled himself to his own 
room. 

"Don't let any one disturb me until I come down," he 
said. 

Four hours later he rushed into the room with Cody 
and Texas Jack. 

"Hurrah for the Scouts of the Plains, that's the name of 
the play, I've just finished the drama," he exclaimed. 
"Here are your parts ; now boys, get to work and study 
hard, rehearsal will be at ten in the morning." 

Buntline hurried out to arrange for the rest of the 
company. 

"Say, that fellow is swift, ain't he?" Jack said. 

"He's as speedy as Tall Bull." 

"How long will it take you to learn that part Bill ?" 

"Well, I figure in about six months." 

"Me too, to get the first line, say Bill, let's cut it and 
go back West." 

"No, sir, we came on to act, here we are and here we 
stick," Cody answered with determination, at the same 
time wishing inwardly that they were back in the saddle. 

[117] 



Thrilling Lives 

"The Scouts of the Plains" was an Indian drama, with a 
lot of thrills, mainly it permitted the public to get a near 
hand view of the great Western character, Buffalo Bill, 
they had read so much about. Financially it was a success. 
The dramatic critics treated the embryo actors with 
leniency, although one writer remarked that if it really 
took Buntline four hours to write the play, the scribe won- 
dered what he had been doing all that time. 

But Buntline was right, Buffalo Bill was a novel char- 
acter and it was soon evident that the public would pay 
well to see him on the stage. A road tour commenced 
which lasted until June 16, 1873. Cody's profits from the 
season amounted to six thousand dollars. 

He determined to try it again, this time including with 
Texas Jack, Wild Bill, the scout and hero of the Mc- 
Candles' gang fight. The company was known as the Buf- 
falo Bill combination, with John M. Burke as its business 
manager. Lively times were in store for the troupe. Wild 
Bill took the show business as a huge joke and would 
never take his work seriously, he was up to deviltry all the 
time. 

It was at Titusville, Pa., when soon after the company 
arrived the landlord sought out Cody. 

[ii8] 



Thrashes Rowdies 

"Don't you or any of your party go into the billiard 
room," he said trembling. 

"Why?" 

"There's a gang of toughs in there from the oil fields, 
they are all drunk and say they came up to clean out your 
party." 

Wild Bill overheard this. 

"Watch me Bill," he said starting for the door. "Keep 
count as I throw 'em out." 

"Hold on Bill," Cody said, "wait until after we show 
to-night." 

Good as were his intentions and promise not to go there. 
Wild Bill's curiosity overcame him and he sauntered into 
the billiard room a little while later. 

"Hello Buffalo Bill," one of the rowdies exclaimed. 
"WeVe been looking for you all day." 

"My name isn't Buffalo Bill." 

"YouVe a liar," retorted the bruiser. 

Bill knocked him down and seizing a chair soon had 
seven of the gang strewn out on the floor. The show went 
on that night without any disturbance. 

When the season closed in Boston, Cody made his prepa- 
rations to return to Nebraska. An English gentleman by 

["9) 



Thrilling Lives 

the name of Medley presented himself with a request that 
the scout act as guide on a big hunt and camping trip 
through the Western territory. The pay was liberal, a 
thousand dollars a month and expenses; Buffalo Bill ac- 
cepted the offer. He spent that summer in his old occupa- 
tion and the ensuing winter continued his tour as the star 
of the drama. Wild Bill and Texas Jack were again in 
the company, but the second season proved too much for 
the patience of the former, and he attempted to break his 
contract. The manager refused to release him, but Wild 
Bill conceived the notion that under certain circumstances 
the company would be glad to get rid of him. 

That night he put his plan into execution by discharging 
his blank cartridges so near the legs of the "dead" Indians 
on the stage, that startled supers came to life with more 
realistic yells than had accompanied their death. 

This was a bit of business not called for in the playbook, 
and while the audience was vastly entertained, the manage- 
ment withheld its approval. Cody expostulated with the 
reckless Indian slayer, but Wild Bill remarked calmly, 
"that he hadn't hurt the fellows anyway," and continued 
to indulge in his innocent pastime. 

[120] 




BUFFALO BILL AND PAWNEE BILL. 
Side by Side on Their Favorite Mounts. 



Bad News 

Severe measures were next resorted to. He was in- 
formed that he must stop shooting the Indians after they 
were dead or leave the company. This was just what Wild 
Bill had hoped for, and when the curtain went up on the 
next performance he was to be seen sitting in the audience, 
enjoying the play for the first time. 

Cody sympathized with his former actor, but he had a 
duty to perform and faithfully endeavored to persuade the 
recreant actor to return to the company. Persuasion went 
for nothing, so the contract was annulled and Wild Bill 
made ready to return to his beloved plains. 

''Here Bill is a little gift from Texas Jack and myself," 
Cody said handing him two one thousand dollar bills. 

The next season Buffalo Bill removed his family to 
Rochester and organized a company of his own. There 
was too much artificiality about stage life to suit one that 
had been accustomed to stern reality, and he sought to 
do away with as much of it as possible by introducing 
into his own company a band of real Indians. The season 
of 1875-76 opened brilliantly; the company played to 
crowded houses everywhere. 

One night in April when the season was nearing its 
close, a telegram was handed to Cody, just about as he was 

[isr] 



Thrilling Lives 

to step on the stage. It was from his wife summoning 
him to Rochester, to the bedside of his only son, Kit Car- 
son Cody. He consulted with his manager and it was ar- 
ranged that after the first act he was to be excused, so that 
he might catch the train. 

That first act was a miserable experience, though the 
audience did not suspect that the actor's heart was almost 
stopped by fear and anxiety. He caught his train and the 
manager played out the part. 

It was too, a miserable ride to Rochester, filled up with 
the gloomiest of forebodings, heightened by memories of 
every incident in the precious little life now in danger. 

Kit was a handsome child with striking features and 
curly hair. His mother always dressed him in the finest 
clothes and tempted by these combined attractions, gypsies 
had carried him away the previous summer. But Kit was 
the son of a scout, his young eyes were sharp. He marked 
the trail followed by his captors, and at the first oppor- 
tunity, gave them the slip and got safely home, exclaim- 
ing as he toddled into the sobbing family circle : 

**I tumed back adain, Mama, don't cry." 

Despite his anxiety, Cody smiled at the recollection of 
the season when his son had been a regular visitor at 

[122] 



Cody's Son Dies 

the theatre. The little fellow knew that the most important 
feature of a dramatic performance, from the management's 
point of view is a large audience. He watched the seats 
fill in keen anxiety, and the moment the curtain arose and 
his father appeared on the stage, he would make a trum- 
pet of his little hands and shout from the box : 

"Good house Papa." 

The audience learned to expect and enjoy this bit of by- 
play between father and son. His duty performed, Kit 
settled himself in his seat and gave himself up to undis- 
turbed enjoyment of the play. 

When Cody reached Rochester he found his son still 
alive, though beyond medical aid. He was burning up 
with fever, but still conscious and the little arms were joy- 
fully lifted to clasp around his Papa's neck. He lingered 
during the next day and into the night, but the end came, 
and Cody faced a great sorrow of his life. He had built 
fond hopes for his son and in a breath they had been swept 
away. Little Kit was laid to rest in Mount Hope Ceme- 
tery April 24, 1876. 

Cody determined to cut the theatrical season short. 
There were still several weeks of contracts to fulfill. One 

[ 123] 



Thrilling Lives 

day as he was leaving the hotel for the theatre he heard 
the newsboys shout: 

"Extra! Extra! All about the Indian war out West !" 

"Here boy, give me a paper/' and Cody glanced at it 
hurriedly. 

"What's happened Bill," one of his company asked, peer- 
ing at the paper over his shoulder. 

"Another uprising with the Sioux." 

"I'll bet the government wishes you were out there." 

"I'm going." 

"What," exclaimed the other in surprise, "you can't 
break your theatrical contracts." 

"I can bust anything when my country needs me," Cody 
replied. "To hell with the show business, I'm going West 
to-night." 



[124] 



CHAPTER XII. 



Pawnee Bill Meets Jesse James. 




OR several years Gordon worked for Trapper 
Tom Evans. His youth was for a time the 
butt of many jokes among the trappers. But 
they soon grew to know him as a determined 
youngster afraid of no danger that man or 
elements could suggest. 

He took naturally to the trails, its ways and its hard- 
ships. It wasn't long before the men ceased to call him 
tenderfoot. In the fall of the year Lillie started to market 
in charge of a pack train laden with dried hides and pelts. 
The nearest selling place was the Pawnee Indian Agency. 
One bitter cold night on the journey he decided to re- 
main on Camp Creek until daylight. Hardly had the 
horses been tethered and the fires going when a cutting 
northwester gave his experienced mind the foreboding of 
bad weather. 

[125] 



Thrilling Lives 

The pack mules bunched on the side of the creek, refus- 
ing to leave either for food or water. They too knew 
that a storm was brewing. 

Amid lightning flashes and a down-pour of rain the 
elements raged in their fury. Seeing that remaining in 
camp would be as bad as forging ahead, Lillie thought it 
best to try to make some headway. But his mules refused 
to budge an inch. 

Saddling his own horse, he started for the agency to 
get provisions, leaving the remaining animals securely tied. 
Within an hour the rain turned to snow, it fell in blinding 
flurries, obliterating every landmark. He could see noth- 
ing ahead and hear nothing except the wailing of the 
wind. Lillie dismounted, broke a small limb from a tree 
and stuck it in the snow, fully half an hour later, though 
he was riding all the time, he came across the same bough. 

"As I thought," he muttered with teeth chattering. 
"Completely lost and just going round and round in a 
circle." He tried to build a fire but all his matches were 
wet, he was without food, with no prospects of the storm 
abating. 

"Guess we'd better keep a moving any way old horse," 
and with that he started again, with head bowed low over 

[126] 



Lost in Storm 

the saddle pommel. He had gone but a little way when 
with a pitch he was thrown head foremost from the saddle, 
rolling over in a pile of snow. His horse had fallen over a 
river bank. Lillie's wrist was bady bruised in striking a 
cake of ice. He made his way back to the horse, the ani- 
mal was lying on its side and seemed unable to rise. 

"Here old fellow you must get up, this lying down here 
won't do." But try as he might the horse could not move. 
Gordon soon found the reason why, the animal had broken 
its leg in the fall. 

There was only one thing to do, Lillie did that re- 
luctantly. 

"Too bad old pard, I hate to see you go," he said, draw- 
ing his revolver, "this will put you out of your suffering." 

Lillie removed the saddle from the dead animal and 
wrapped the blanket around his own body. There was noth- 
ing to do but wait or freeze to death. He sat down on 
the horse's side. A few minutes passed when he was 
startled to hear a groan, it sounded like the creaking of 
trees. A bit more and Gordon heard the sound again. 

"Some other animal has fallen over the bank, I guess," 
he mused and thoroughly numbed with cold, sank to the 
ground, his eyes were heavy, the icy grip of a death sleep 

[127] 



Thrilling Lives 

was stealing over him, he seemed to realize it and made a 
final struggle to his feet. Stumbling on, numb in every 
joint with the bruised wrist aching badly, the young trap- 
per tried to make headway against the storm. He found 
that by keeping close to the under side of the river bank 
that the force of the storm was somewhat spent before it 
hit him. He had gone a few feet when he heard the groan 
again. 

He stopped and listened intently. Then again came the 
sound. 

"Halloa," he tried to cry, but his lips would hardly open 
to let out the sound. He listened. 

''Halloa," came a faint answer, like the echo of a dying 
wind. 

"My God," he mused, "there's some poor devil out in 
the storm too." 

Bending every muscle he started in the direction of the 
voice, not twenty feet away he came upon the prostrate 
form of a man nearly covered with snow, which had crim- 
soned with blood. 

"Halloa there, stranger," Lillie said, kneehng down be- 
side him, "you look to be in a bad way." 

"Got any whiskey," faintly asked the other. 
[128] 



Rescues Stranger 

*'No," and despite the seriousness of their predicament, 
a smile traced itself over Lillie's features. 

"For heaven's sake," he thought, "everywhere I go 
someone is talking about a drink." 

"Can you stop me from bleeding so much,^' the stranger 
said. Lillie took the horse blanket from his shoulders and 
wrapped it around the wounded man. There was a gaping 
wound in his forehead, and one arm was shot through. 

"What happened?" 

"Sheriff and his men " but could get no further. 

Lillie saw that unless aid was secured for the bleeding 
man that he would soon die, he did not know which way 
to turn, the snow still fell in blinding sheets. 

"Cabin-up-river-bank,-about-two-hundred-yards, try-to- 
get-me-there," faintly faltered the other. 

"I'll go for help," thought Lillie, "no I might as well try 
to carry him along," and with that the youngster summon- 
ing all his strength drew the wounded man to him and 
started on the journey. Stumbling and falling at nearly 
every step, it seemed a hopeless task. But Gordon would 
not give up as long as there was an ounce of life left in 
him. He staggered on. 

[129] 



Thrilling Lives 

Dimly through the falHng snow Lillie thought he saw a 
light. He tried to cry out but no sound came from his 
lips. The wounded man, exhausted by loss of blood and 
cold, had swooned away. His dead weight was beginning 
to tell on the sturdy youngster. Finally, seeing that he 
could not carry his burden any more and that he was with- 
in a few feet of the cabin, Lillie laid the man in the snow 
and half falling at every step staggered to the door, he 
stumbled against it and fell, as he did so there was the 
sharp report of a rifle. A bullet crashed through the door 
not two inches above Gordon's head. 

Then all was still, Lillie had fainted. 

After a few minutes the door was opened just enough 
to allow a rifle barrel to come through. 

"Who's there," demanded a voice from the inside. 

There was no answer. 

The door opened a little more and finally was gradually 
shoved back. Gordon's body which had fallen against the 
bottom part fell into the room. 

"Guess you got him alright," said one of the men in the 
room. "Who is it?" 

"Dunno, turn up the light." 

"Why, it's that young feller that works for Trapper 
[130] 



Man Out There! 

Tom," one said rolling Lillie over on his face. "That's 
too bad, didn't mean to hit him." 

Just then Gordon moved, the heat of the room had re- 
vived him a little. 

"Man out there," he panted and fell off to unconscious- 
ness. 

"Go out Dick and see who it is." 

In a few minutes Dick returned carrying the almost 
frozen body of the wounded man. At a glance the men 
inside saw it was one of their number. Stimulants were 
applied and the injured man regained consciousness, in a 
few words he told the story of his rescue by Lillie. Gordon 
about this time was coming to, they put him to bed, applied 
the usual restoratives and treatment for those who are 
frozen. In the morning Lillie awoke refreshed after a 
sound sleep and was but little the worse for his experience 
the night before. 

He raised his head. He tried to collect his scattered 
senses. He could not account for his being in bed in a 
strange place. At the far side of the room there were 
several men, including the wounded man that he rescued 
the night before. Slowly memory came back, he recalled 

[131] 



Thrilling Lives 

everything up to the time that he had fallen against the 
door. 

He got up. 

At the first sound he made there was a quick movement 
on the part of four men, they wheeled facing him and 
Lillie was astounded to find himself looking down four 
rifle barrels. 

"It's only the young feller," said one, and the guns 
came down. 

"Well bub, how do you feel?" one of them asked. 

"Pretty good, but where in the deuce am I and why this 
cordial greeting with the guns. Do you fellows always 
say good morning to a stranger with a rifle ?" 

"As a rule we say good night to him with that," laughed 
one who seemed to be the leader. "Any way you have noth- 
ing to fear. The boys want to thank you for saving one of 
our pals." 

"Oh, that's all right — now don't ask me if I want a drink 
of anything, except some of that good smelling coffee over 
there." He got up, one of the men bandaged his swollen 
wrist and the party sat down to breakfast. 

"That chap was in pretty bad shape, lucky I happened 
[132] 



Meets Jesse James 

to get lost in that storm, or I guess he would have passed 
in before morning. How did he get shot up ?" 

"Well," began one of the men, "we don't as a rule talk 
much about those things, but I guess you're entitled to 
know. You see, we boys ain't very popular with the con- 
stables or the detectives, and when we come across each 
other there's usually a burying takes place." 

And from the armed appearance of every member of 
the gang Lillie needed no stretch of imagination to beHeve 
it. 

"Who the dickens are you fellows anyway?" he asked. 

"Jesse James and his men," replied the tallest of their 
number, who had acted as the spokesman. 

"Gee whizz!" exclaimed Gordon. 

"That's alright, don't be afraid." 

"Not a darn bit afraid — only surprised, you don't seem 
to be a bad sort of a fellow at all." 

"Well, that's because you wasn't looking for us and 
we wasn't looking for you, that might make a differ- 
ence," the other replied. The storm had abated by this 
time and Lillie prepared to go. 

"Now young feller, we have got to stay here and look 
after the one that was shot — you know there's a big re- 

[133] 



Thrilling Lives 

ward for us — what are you going to talk about when you 
get to town, if we let you go ?" 

"About the first thing will be to talk someone into giv- 
ing me a job, I suppose Trapper Tom will fire me, for 
losing his horse ; the rest of the team, I guess, is frozen to 
death by this time." 

"Aren't going to say anything about us." 

"Why the devil should I?" 

"To get the reward." 

"Well, I'm not looking for that kind of money — ^you've 
treated me right — if you hadn't been in this cabin I'd a 
froze to death, I'm glad to be alive but don't like the idea 
of that long walk to the Indian agency." 

"You won't have to walk," James said, "you can have 
one of our horses." 

And true to his word, Gordon never mentioned having 
met the Jesse James crowd until long after they were 
driven out of the state by the Rangers. 

For several months he continued in the employ of Trap- 
per Tom. The work offered no advancement and his am- 
bitious nature chafed under the Hmited opportunities. One 
day while at the agency he learned of an opening. He 
secured the influence of several prominent men who had 

[134] 



Appointed Interpreter 

been watching the youth's career for some time. He was 
installed as secretary to the Government agent. He liked 
the work. The Indians with whom he was thrown in daily 
contact grew attached to him. He saw a way of further 
advancement but it meant much study, but after some 
time he overcame all the difficulties of the Pawnee lan- 
guage. 

The opportunity came and he approached Colonel Hay- 
worth, the Government Inspector. 

"Colonel," Lillie began, "I've been studying hard and 
I want to be an interpreter." 

"But " 

"I know twenty dialects," Lillie ignored the objections, 
"and I would like to get the place." 

"You are too young, my boy." 

"It's not youth you're hiring, Colonel, it's my ability as 
an interpreter." 

"Yes and your obstinate determination to get whatever 
you go after," Hay worth laughingly said, "Alright, I'll 
get you the commission." 

In this position he remained for some time, adding new 
friends and achievements to his budding career. In the 
summer of 1884 a party of four masked men, heavily 

[135] 



Thrilling Lives 

armed and swiftly mounted rode up to the only bank at 
Medicine Lodge. One held the horses and the other 
three entered the bank. 

"Hands up," exclaimed the leader. 

"Not so fast," cried Lillie, who had only a few minutes 
before entered the bank to deposit some government 
money, his revolver was in action at once. The hammer 
fell on an empty barrel, the desperadoes opened fire on 
him and Lillie, seeing that a four handed fight with three 
men who had loaded pistols while his was empty, was not 
conducive to his best health, made a dash around the 
counter and escaped through the back door while the rob- 
bers kept shooting. Both bank clerks were killed. Lillie 
dashed into the street. 

"Get your rifles," he yelled, shouting to a crowd of citi- 
zens a little way off. "Bank being robbed, let's give 'em 
a run for it." 

The ranchers and cowmen headed by Lillie soon over- 
took the bandits, a running fight commenced in which one 
of the bank thieves was shot from his horse, another 
wounded and the other two captured. The cowboys were 
for a lynching bee then and there. 

[136] 




aj\r TH^ WAY TO THE, M-Ias/^L^ 



Robbers Lynched 

"No boys, give the law a chance, they'll get theirs any- 
way." 

That night, however, the jail was broken into and the 
two men strung up to a tree. 

Not long after this Lillie bought a herd of cattle and 
started for Cedar Creek where he intended taking up a 
homestead. The country then was filled with desperate 
characters. Men who thought nothing of jumping the 
weak-kneed settlers' claim and holding it for their own. 
Cattle land was then becoming valuable. 

Lillie selected his site and built a rude little cabin. The 
next morning he picked up a note lying on his door step. 
It read : 

"Save trouble and move away quick." 

Reversing the sheet of paper he wrote on its back: 
"Move nothing, I'm here to stay, if you fellows are looking 
for trouble drop around to see me any time," and riding 
over to the supposed author's ranch, he stuck it to a post 
and returned home to wait for results. They came. 

One evening he was sitting in the cabin door cleaning his 
rifle. He heard a noise like leaves crackling and then a 
bullet whizzed by his head, coming through a window just 

[137] 



Thrilling Lives 

to the rear of the door. There was an empty rain barrel a 
few feet away, he was in it in a second. 

For a long time there wasn't a sound — then the figure of 
a man crept stealthily around the corner of the cabin in 
full view of Gordon who was watching through a hole in 
the barrel. The man raised, took aim at the open door and 
was about to press the trigger. He was between the cabin 
and Lillie's hiding place with his back to the latter. 

''Hold on there," Gordon cried, rising above the bar- 
rel and covering the intruder — "drop that gun." 

"Don't shoot," whined the culprit, letting his rifle fall. 

"You're too poor a marksman to be prowling around at 
night — you might accidentally hit some one." 

"It's all a mistake." 

"Yes, but only because I wasn't where you thought I 
was. What are you after?" 

"I was looking for some cattle that they told me you had 
stolen." 

"Don't tell any lies that you can't prove. There isn't 
any stray cattle around here except the one my gun's 
pointed at now. Now get away quick." 

And he did. 

[138] 



CHAPTER XIII. 



Buffalo Bill's Duel With Chief Yellow Hand. 




ERE comes Buffalo Bill." 

Three ringing cheers expressed the delight 
of the troopers over his return to his old com- 
mand and Cody was equally pleased. As 
good as his word, Buffalo Bill closed his the- 
atrical tour and hastened to Chicago on his way West. It 
was his intention to overtake General Crook. A few 
hours after his arrival in Chicago, Cody was met by an 
officer from the military headquarters. 

"Just the man we're looking for," the latter said. "Gen- 
eral Carr, in command of the Fifth Cavalry, has sent for 
you to act as his guide and chief of scouts on the march to 
meet General Crook in Arizona." 

Hastening on to Cheyenne, Buffalo Bill overtook the 
command and was met at the depot by Captain King (now 
General). His reception by General Carr was warm. 

[139] 



Thrilling Lives 

He was at once installed as chief of Scouts. The next 
morning the command started for Fort Laramie, where it 
overtook General Sheridan en route to the Red Cloud 
agency. Cody was asked to accompany him as scout. In- 
dian depredations of recent occurrence caused the Fifth 
Cavalry to scour the country at the foot of the Blackhill 
mountains for about two weeks. Frequent minor engage- 
ments with the redskins occurred. 

At this time General Wesley Merritt had relieved Gen- 
eral Carr in command of the Fifth. He and Buffalo Bill 
soon became fast friends. On June 25, 1876, came news 
that staggered Cody, officers and men alike. Custer had 
been killed and his whole force massacred. 

To Buffalo Bill the loss of this gallant soldier was a 
personal one. The two had been the warmest of friends. 
Cody swore vengeance, not realizing that it would come 
soon enough. Orders were instantly given to proceed to 
Fort Fetterman and join General Crook in the Big Horn 
Basin. 

The last seen of Custer, as he started into that memor- 
able battle of the Little Big Horn, was when he went over 
the ridge and waved his hat in salute to the other com- 
mands. Custer made a wide detour, to fall on the rear of 

[140] 



Custer's Last Fight 

the Indian village or what he thought was the rear, imme- 
diately struck a very strong band of warriors, for by this 
time Chief Gall had been informed of Custer's presence 
and hastened to that point with reinforcements. Word 
was also sent to Chief Crazy Horse to assist in the com- 
bined attack on Custer. 

They crossed the river at a point where they were con- 
cealed by a large ravine and got on Custer's flank, and so 
astute had been Chief Gall's arrangements, that the brave 
soldier found himself attacked in front and on all sides 
at once. 

Custer's first charge was successful until he saw the im- 
mensity of the village. It was a full-fledged city of yell- 
ing redskins. He decided to make his stand on a high 
hill, half a mile away and back from the village. 

He sounded recall and tried to make the point, turning 
his back while doing so. The Indians were never so brave 
as when they saw a white soldier's back. On the retreat 
to the hill half of Custer's command was killed. The rest 
took up positions, but the Indians being so elated at the 
effects of their first charge concentrated and fought Cus- 
ter like demons. 

[141] 



Thrilling Lives 

Fighting desperately to gain a point higher up, he was 
compelled to dismount his men and act upon the defensive. 
Unable to advance or retreat and probably unwilling to do 
the latter anyway, Custer must have based his actions on 
the diversion the other commands of white soldiers would 
make. Steadfastly believing that help would come, they 
fought coolly, hoping and expecting for reinforcements 
that never came. 

The Indians were all well armed and in overwhelming 
numbers circling and riding at high speed, they kept up a 
continuous and active fire, while skirmishers and marks- 
men crawled through the grass picking off officers, even- 
tually killing Custer and every one of his gallant fighters. 
They all died in their proper military positions, every 
officer at his post, every man in line. Custer's body was 
found and although all the others were mutilated or 
scalped, his remains seemed to have been untouched, 
except by his death wounds, a tribute from the savage 
foe for his bravery and courageous fight for Hfe. 

On the march to join Crook, a messenger arrived tell- 
ing Merritt that eight hundred Cheyenne warriors had 
left the Red Cloud Agency that day to join Sitting Bull's 
hostile forces in the Big Horn region. Merritt selected five 

[142] 



Indians Approach 

hundred men with Cody as guide, dispatching them to 
War Bonnet Creek in an effort to intercept these Indians. 
The detachment reached the Creek on the evening of July 
17, 1876, and went into camp. Buffalo Bill at daybreak 
struck out to reconnoiter. 

"General, the body of Cheyennes are approaching from 
the south," he reported to Merritt. 

Quietly the order was given for the cavalry to mount 
and remain out of view. Cody and Merritt, with two 
aides, went on a little tour of observation to a neighbor- 
ing hill. 

"They're coming directly at us," exclaimed General 
Merritt. 

Presently fifteen or twenty Indians dashed off to the 
West in the direction from which Merritt's command had 
come the night before. 

"General, I see two mounted soldiers pushing their way 
on our trail," Cody said with his eyes glued to the field 
glass. "They are evidently carrying dispatches to you." 

The Indians were trying to intercept the messengers. 
Merritt did not think it advisable to send out soldiers to 
the couriers' aid as it would disclose the fact that a body 
of troops were nearby. 

[143] 



Thrilling Lives 

''Wait until those men get a little closer/' Cody said, 
"and as the Indians are about to charge I will take my 
scouts and make a dash to their rescue." 

"Alright Cody/' Merritt replied, "it's risky, but if you 
can do it, go ahead." 

Buffalo Bill rushed back to the command and mounting, 
picked out fifteen men then rejoined Merritt on the hill. 

"Give the word," Cody said, "when you think it's time 
General." 

A few moments later Merritt exclaimed: 

"Go in now Cody, be quick about it, they are about to 
charge." 

The two messengers were not over four hundred yards 
distant, with the Indians about six hundred feet behind 
them. Cody and his men dashed over the bluffs and gal- 
loped straight at the redskins. A quick skirmish then 
three dead Indians were on the plains. 

The balance retreated joining the main body of war 
painted Cheyennes. But not for long. 

A second group came dashing at the white men who 
were by this time nearly a half mile from the cavalry. The 
fighting began in earnest. Suddenly one of the Indians 

[144] 




JNRpUOH WONDERLAND 



QAI^iPr^'^^ O^ THE CODY TRAlt 



Duel with Indian 

decorated with the head gear of a chief broke from his 
band and rode straight for Cody. 

"I know you, Pa-he-haska," he yelled in the native 
tongue. "If you want fight, come ahead and fight me." 

The chief drew his men to line and rode back and forth 
in front bantering Buffalo Bill with challenges for a duel. 

"All right, you red devil, get ready." Cody galloped 
toward him, the Chief started at the same time, both rid- 
ing at full speed to within a distance of thirty yards of each 
other. 

The Indian fired first and missed. Buffalo Bill's shot 
killed the redskin's horse. At the same instant his own 
mount stumbled and Cody was unseated. Springing to 
their feet both the red and white man, not more than 
twenty paces apart, fired simultaneously. 

The Indian sank to the ground with a bullet in his 
breast. Cody was uninjured and at the Chief's side in a 
twinkling. A quick thrust and Buffalo Bill's bowie cleaved 
the redskin's heart. Jerking off the war bonnet Cody 
quickly scalped the dead warrior. 

The whole duel had lasted but a few minutes. The In- 
dians watched in awe, but as soon as they saw their chief 
fall they charged the daring scout. Merritt was on the 

[145] 



Thrilling Lives 

lookout too, and sent a company of soldiers to Cody's re- 
lief. They arrived none too soon. A quick volley and 
the Indians retreated. Cody mounted his horse and 
galloped back to Merritt. 

"Well done, Cody, well done," he exclaimed. 

"Pretty close call," Cody cried exultantly, waving the 
chieftain's topknot in the air. "That was Yellow Hand, 
Chief of the Cheyennes, and here's the first scalp for 
Custer." 




[146] 



CHAPTER XIV. 



Pawnee Bill Heads the Land Boomers. 




N THE spring of the following year after his 



experience with the claim jumpers, Gordon 
W. LilHe was sent with a tribe of Pawnee 
' -A Indians to join Buffalo Bill's Wild West. 

Lillie was to act as interpreter. Returning 
to the agency he was made white chief of the Pawnee 
tribes, succeeding Major Frank North. It was due to his 
persistent fair dealings and his every effort to advance 
their cause that to the Indians and those who knew him 
he became known as "Pawnee Bill." 

"Why is it," mused Pawnee Bill, "that Oklahoma is not 
opened up for the white settlers ?" 

The question was easily answered. 

GRAFT! 

In his constant intercourse and association with the In- 
dians he gained the fact that all the existing claims of the 
American redman to that section of the Indian Territory 

:[i47] 



Thrilling Lives 

known as Oklahoma, had ceased and the lands were sub- 
ject to public entry. Yet whenever a pioneer settled he 
was promptly expelled. 

Why was this ? 

Simply because it w^as a rich and fertile tract controlled 
by influential cattle men. 

Money was the dominating influence that kept the 
poorer settlers out. The more he investigated, the more 
Pawnee Bill became determined to see if the land could 
not be opened for rightful settlement. 

At first it was diflicult to interest others in a concen- 
trated movement. Many had tried and after almost 
superhuman discouragements had given up. 

On the morning of December 20, 1888, Pawnee Bill 
rode into Wichita — a few hours after the entire town 
knew his mission. He had left the dent of his courage on 
Wichita some years before and the citizens recalled it. 
They flocked to his banner. A mass meeting was called for 
that night. Pawnee Bill laid before the gathering his 
plans, harangued to good advantage, he answered the 
heckling of the undecided ; he finally thrust his enthusiasm 
into every heart. 

[148] 



Right to Land 

"Men, listen to me," he addressed them, with cheeks 
and eyes aflame, with whole-souled enthusiam, "this land 
is ours — yours and mine — we are entitled to it. Years 
have gone by since it passed from control of the Indians. 
If it belonged to them, if they were in anyway getting 
the benefit of it, if it were against any law in the land for 
us to get our share, I would be the last to urge you to 
action. 

"You can look for little aid from Congress — too much 
money and influence are back of the men who have 
usurped the territory for their cattle. We are justified 
in entering this property by the Homestead Act of 1879, 
which says — 'all lands belonging to the United States to 
which the Indian title has been or may hereafter be ex- 
tinguished shall be subject to the right of pre-emption 
under the conditions, restrictions and stipulations provided 
by law.' Men, I claim that you and I have just as much 
right to that land as the cattle men who now control it, 
and yes — by thunder, we have more right — the right that 
citizenship gives to every honest man — men, are you 
with me?" 

"You bet," came the answer in a chorus. 
[149] 



Thrilling Lives 

No sooner had the wires flashed the arrival of Pawnee 
Bill and the mass meeting at Wichita than he was del- 
uged with large quantities of mail from every State and 
Territory in the Union. There were letters of inquiry, 
some condemned the project, but the vast majority asked 
for information as to how the writers could join the 
venture. 

Pawnee Bill organized sub-colonies in Kansas, Arkan- 
sas, Nebraska and Texas. The one in Omaha enlisted over 
two thousand enthusiasts, sending on a delegation to 
confer with Pawnee Bill at Wichita. 

The colonies as yet did not have a central head, each 
were governed locally, and as a result concentrated action 
was lacking. Pawnee Bill was unanimously chosen as the 
Oklahoma Boomer Leader. 

On January 1, 1889, a detachment of Boomer Eggles- 
ton's forces broke away and made a settlement in Okla- 
homa. They were promptly expelled by the soldiers and 
many rushed over to join Pawnee Bill's colony. 

Eight days later Pawnee Bill and his followers pitched 
camp at Arkansas City. They were met by Captain 
Woodson and the Seventh Cavalry, reinforcements hav- 

[150] 



LiLLiE Handcuffed 

ing been sent out from Fort Leavenworth; also Chiefs 
Mayer and Bushyhead, of the Cherokee Nation, had or- 
dered their mounted Indian police to the assistance of 
the cavalry. It may be worth while noting that open 
charges were made that the Indian police were being gen- 
erously subsidized, in fact maintained, by the rich cattle 
men. 

Finding that his efforts here at entering Oklahoma 
were fruitless, Pawnee Bill moved with his forces to 
Honeywell, Kansas, in the night of the 29th. On the 
following day Lieutenant Elliott and a detachment of cav- 
alry took up their position across the line just opposite 
the colony. It was a trying position. Wordy conflicts 
were frequent, and had it not been for the cool head and 
masterly leadership of Pawnee Bill there might have been 
serious trouble many times. 

On February 1st all was in readiness to make the en- 
trance. During the night Pawnee Bill mounted his horse 
and dashed across the border to investigate and lay out 
the route for the invasion next day. He was shortly after- 
ward surrounded by a squad of soldiers, overpowered 
and taken from his horse and handcuffed to the back of 
a commissary v^agon, and in that way the gallant leader 

[151] 



Thrilling Lives 

was ignominiously forced to march twenty miles on foot 
over the burning ground to the border line. 

"Won't be safe for you to try this again," one soldier 
yelled. Pawnee Bill made no answer. His fight was a 
bigger one than engaging with a minion of Uncle Sam. 

The order was given and Pawnee Bill with his colony 
started further West, intending to go a distance of about 
twelve miles, then cross the Bitter Creek and Secaspie 
River, which at that time were swollen to impassibility on 
the bridges. Once over. Pawnee Bill figured that by get- 
ting the two impassible streams between his forces and 
the soldiers, they would be better prepared to make the 
dash. 

"Pawnee Bill here?" shouted a mounted messenger. 
"Important messages for him." 

And such they proved to be. One was from the com- 
mittee in Washington, D. C, stating that the Lower 
House had just passed the Oklahoma Bill, and the other 
was from the Board of Trade in Omaha urging him not 
to make entry until the bill was acted upon by Congress. 

"Well, darn their skin," Pawnee Bill exclaimed, "Pve 
stirred them to action at last." A meeting was called and 

[152] 




^^•-:^^--.V .-iv---.-.^:' 







ON the: QOJdy Tl^i^' 



The People's Champion 

when a committee from Caldwell arrived, was in session. 
The committee told Pawnee Bill it was necessary for the 
good of all that he should wait. 

*T can wait, all right," he answered. "But some pro- 
vision must be made for my people." 

It was decided to let Pawnee Bill and his sturdy band 
of pioneers have the use of every vacant house in Caldwell 
and also the Fair Grounds. 

In March the bill passed, the news was received in the 
West, particularly in Pawnee Bill's camp, with demon- 
stration and rejoicing. Pawnee Bill was congratulated 
from far and near, press and public the country over were 
loud in their praises of the heroic boomer leader, the man 
who wore the mantle of the people's champion, made 
sacred by the life's blood of Carpenter, Crouch and Okla- 
homa Payne. 

President Harrison issued a proclamation that Oklahoma 
v^ould be opened on April 22, 1889, at twelve o'clock 
noon. 

Preparations were made for the entry. Thousands 
thronged the boundary line, and all were in breathless ex- 
pectancy for the great event. The Seventh Cavalry was 
stationed at Caldwell. Pawnee Bill had been joined by 

[153] 



Thrilling Lives 

his brother, Albert Lillie — now a wealthy rancher living 
near Pawnee. 

The colony moved to Honeywell and entered the Cher- 
okee strip on April 18th with about four thousand and 
two hundred followers of Pawnee Bill. 

Floods retarded their progress and several were 
drowned in crossing overflown rivers. At Hackberry a 
halt was made for dinner. A courier dashed up, informing 
Pawnee Bill that the cavalry under Captain Woodson was 
collecting all the boomers on the line at Bull Foot and 
holding them under guard until noon of the opening day. 
Lillie saw the disadvantage he and his colony would be 
placed under by being thrown together with about seven 
thousand men eager for land. He decided quickly. A 
move was made twelve miles west to Turkey Creek when 
camp was made until April 21st. Then they marched 
across the open country, drawing up at the Oklahoma line 
at dark of the same day. 

That evening Pawnee Bill sauntered out for a walk — 
to be alone with his thoughts. The following day was to 
bring its own big events — the gritty boomer leader was 
about to see the fulfillment of his one greatest desire — 

[154] 



Pawnee Bill a Boomer 

Oklahoma free to the settlers. Unconsciously he walked 
a mile or so. 

"Halt, stay where you are!" rang out a stern com- 
mand as a young mounted policeman rode up. "You're 
one of that boomer gang, aren't you?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, get back of the line and stay there until the 
cannon signal to-morrow — and say, is Pawnee Bill with 
your outfit?" 

"He was over tkere a little while ago." 

"Tell him he'd better stay out of here until noon 
to-morrow." 

"That so? Why?" 

"We've got orders to shoot him on sight.'* 




[155] 



CHAPTER XV. 



Buffalo Bill Made a Brigadier-General. 




FTER the thrilling duel with Yellow Hand 

the army moved on. It was on August third 

that the command reached Goose Creek, 

joining General Crook's forces. Cody was 

enthusiastically greeted by Crook, who had 

heard much of his heroic deeds. After one day in camp 

the commands headed for Tongue River, leaving the 

wagons behind, thence starting in a westerly direction. 

Buffalo Bill was sent ahead, and he soon discovered the 
Indian trail, judging it to be about four days old, and 
from its size estimated that about seven thousand Indians 
had passed. For several days the soldiers pushed on 
without seeming to make much headway on the redskins. 
Some time after, when Cody, again in the lead, mounted 
a hilltop and scanned the surrounding country far and 

[157] 



Thrilling Lives 

wide with field glasses a cloud of dust caught his eye. 
It proved to be General Terry's command. Terry's scouts 
had evidently seen Buffalo Bill, and reported back to the 
commander that there were Indians ahead. Terry at 
once went to the post. Shortly after, Buffalo Bill's atten- 
tion was attracted by the appearance of a body of soldiers 
forming into skirmish line. He also saw a party of In- 
dians who later proved to be friendly scouts with Terry's 
army. The Seventh Cavalry, much to Cody's amazement, 
was thrown into battle line. 

Then it dawned upon the scout that there had been a 
mistake. He had been seen and taken for the outpost of 
Sioux warriors. Spurring his horse, he rode toward the 
skirmish line. Five hundred rifles were leveled at him. 
He waved his hat, and when within a hundred yards of 
the soldiers Colonel Weir recognized Cody and rode out 
to greet him. 

"Boys, it's Buffalo Bill !" Weir shouted, as they dashed 
up to the lines. The regiment gave Cody three rousing 
cheers. It was a proud moment in the scout's life to be 
thus received by the army. That night both commands 
went into camp on the Rosebud. 

[158] 



Scared Whole Army 

"Gee, that was funny," Cody was thinking, "I scared 
the whole army into lining up for battle." 

A few days later Cody was selected to go on a scouting 
expedition with General Mills. He was to ride on the 
pilothouse of a steamboat and keep watch on the river 
banks for Indian trails. Two companies were landed 
after a short trip, and Cody with another guide was in- 
structed to push on ahead and reconnoiter the vicinity. 
They came upon a fort built and occupied by Colonel 
Rice and his men. Cody returned to his command and 
was ordered with dispatches to General Whistler, whose 
steamboat was forty miles down the river. The journey 
was made over bad lands in just four hours. 

"Cody, I want you to take some information back to 
General Terry," Whistler said. "I can't get anyone 
around here to risk it; if you will, I'll see that you are 
well paid." 

"Never mind the pay," Cody replied. "Get your dis- 
patches ready and I'll start at once." In due time he 
reached General Terry. The latter read the dispatches 
and held a consultation with General Crook. The com- 
mands then started for the dry fork of the Missouri River, 
where Indians had been reported. Cody was sent with 

[159] 



Thrilling Lives 

dispatches again to Colonel Rice, who was still camped at 
the mouth of the Glendive Creek, on the Yellowstone, 
eighty miles away. 

He started at night, through a new country, in a driz- 
zling rain, and with a poor mount. At daylight Cody 
stopped for a bite of breakfast and a rest. In a few 
minutes he was asleep. Suddenly he was awakened by 
a roaring, rumbling sound. Seizing his gun and drag- 
ging his horse deeper into the bushes, he crawled to the 
steep side of a bank and looked over. 

In the distance was a herd of buffalo being chased and 
fired at by thirty Indians. For two hours, gun in hand, 
expecting to be discovered and attacked at any minute, 
Buffalo Bill watched and waited for the redskins. 

They did not see him. At nightfall he started again. 
Bearing off to the East for several miles, he semi-circled 
the Indians' camp and at daylight reached Colonel Rice 
without adventure. Starting back the next day with dis- 
patches to Terry, Cody overtook the command at Deer 
Creek. 

This for a period ended Cody's scouting career. He 
obtained leave to return to New York for a visit with his 
family, shortly afterwards returning West to meet 

[i6o] 





ca^^HHfiii^ m 


^^^S^^K^ S 




•^^SjKJi"^ . 


m^Kff^ ^jKs^tl^KllI^^^^^^^^^^^'' 


'*1^^^hI^H^^^^P ^^ 






1 


'"'^ 




n; 


^ 


1^^" ■■' 


^A 




I^^H ., ^^\. *%..:: :1h1 



Visits Big Horn 

Major Frank North with whom he was to enter the cattle 
business. 

In 1878-79 Cody successfully starred in a drama, en- 
titled "The Knight of the Plains or Buffalo Bill's Best 
Trail." 

In 1880 the famous scout was bereaved by the death of 
his little daughter Orra. She was buried in Mount Hope 
Cemetery, Rochester, by the side of her brother Kit Car- 
son. In 1882 another daughter was born — she was named 
Irma and is still living. 

It was about this time that Buffalo Bill made his first 
visit to the valley of the Big Horn. Cody was impressed 
with its remarkable beauty and determined it the ideal 
place for his future home. He selected a site near two 
little lakes, naming them after his two daughters Irma and 
Orra. In testimony of the valuable service he had ren- 
dered his country, Cody was later on appointed Brigadier 
General in the State National Guard of Nebraska. He 
actively served in that capacity for many years, but when 
a moment's rest came Cody was to be found at his home 
in the West near the little lakes. 

Once when standing there a Sioux warrior came up to 
him. This man was unusually intelligent and desired that 

[i6i] 



Thrilling Lives 

his children should be educated. He sent his two sons to 
Carlisle and himself took great pains in learning the white 
man's religious beliefs, though he still clung to his old 
savage customs and superstitions. A short time before 
he talked with Cody large companies of Indians had made 
pilgrimages to join one big conclave for the purpose of 
celebrating a Ghost dance. The authorities attempted to 
stop it. The Indians resisted and blood was spilled. 
Among the slain were the sons of the Indian who stood 
beside the lake. 

"It is written in the Great Book of the white man/' the 
old Chief said to Buffalo Bill, "that the Great Spirit— the 
Nan-tan-in-chor — is to come again on earth, the white 
man in their big villages go to their council lodges 
(churches) and talk about the time of his coming. Some 
say one time, some another, but they all know the time 
will come, for it is written in the Great Book. It is the 
great and the good among the white men that go to these 
council lodges, and those that do not go, say, *It is well ; 
we believe as they believe. He will come.' 

"It is written in the Great Book of the white man that 
all human beings on earth are the children of the one 
Great Spirit. He provides and cares for them. All he 

[162] 



Indian*s Philosophy 

asks in return is that his children obey him, that they be 
good to one another, that they judge not one another, 
and that they do not kill or steal. Have I spoken truly 
the words of the white man's Book?" 

"You have." 

"The red man, too, has a Great Book. You have never 
seen it; it is hidden here." He pressed his hand against 
his heart. "The teachings of the two books are the same. 
What the Great Spirit says to the white man, the Nan-tan- 
in-chor says to the red man. We, too, go to our council 
lodge to talk of the second coming. We have our cere- 
mony, as the white man has his. The white man is 
solemn, sorrowful; the red man is happy and glad. We 
dance and are joyful, and the white man sends his soldiers 
to shoot us down. Does their Great Spirit tell them to do 
this? 

"In the big city (Washington), where I have been, 
there is another big book (the Federal Constitution) 
which says that the white man shall not interfere with the 
religious liberty of another. And yet they come out to 
our country and kill us when we show our joy to Nan- 
tan-in-chor. We rejoice over his second coming; the 
white man mourns, but he sends his soldiers to kill us in 

[163] 



Thrilling Lives 

our rejoicing. Bah! The white man is false. I return 
to my people, and to the customs and habits of my fore- 
fathers. I am an Indian.'' 

The old Chief folded his blanket around him and 
stalked away. 

"After all," mused Cody, "every question has two sides 
to it." 



k 



[164] 



CHAPTER XVI. 



Opening of the Cherokee Land Strip. 




T WAS a red sun that broke April 22 into day, 
a coloring that betokens storm, but the con- 
flict was not to be between elements, but 
men. And it raged viciously. Thousands 
upon thousands had flocked to Oklahoma 
weeks before the memorable day of opening. The prairie 
became a melting pot of races. Gamblers, thugs, assassins, 
adventurers, men, women and children were huddled 
along the border line. 

On every side was gambling, carousing and fighting 
with all the trimmings that one might expect when such 
a motley crowd gathered. There were some, thousands 
in fact, bent on a legitimate errand, other thousands were 
there to find easy prey. Food prices soared to the pinnacle 
where only a robust bank roll could purchase, articles of 
apparel brought the fanciest of prices, but every one 

[165] 



Thrilling Lives 

seemed to have money, the clink and rattle of gold and 
silver was heard on every side. 

Pawnee Bill's colony was aloof from excitement and 
terror that prevailed a few miles down the line — he exer- 
cised wonderful control over his people, and they realized 
that he was the master with their very best interests at 
heart. 

The morning passed quickly, men unhitched horses 
from their wagons, cutting away the harness that might 
impede their flight. The women gathered in bunches 
preparing to follow the wake of the others, and every- 
where good nature prevailed. 

Across the border line only ten feet away the mounted 
police were patrolling, while a detachment of cavalrymen 
swung the signal cannon into position. At quarter to 
twelve Pawnee Bill had the bugle sounded, the colony 
stretched out along the line of entry. 

"Men," he began, "in another few minutes the signal 
will be given — my work for you is nearly done — each of 
you now must do for yourself. We are in a good posi- 
tion, we are in the choicest part of the Cherokee strip, 
those of you who have strong mounts ride farthest along 

[i66] 



Signal Gun Fired 

to give the others a chance. Get ready now and when she 
fires, jump." 

Horses pranced and chafed at their bits, they seemed to 
know what was expected of them, the men wished each 
other good luck. Their long days of hardship were over, 
another few seconds and each would be dashing away to 
locate his future home. 

Boom! Bang! roared the signal cannon. 

A thousand horse hoofs pounded the dry ground, and 
an immense sheet of dust wrapped itself around the mad- 
racing riders. Pawnee Bill was mounted on his fleetest 
mare ''Bonnie Bird," he soon took the lead. Turkey Creek 
was his destination, twenty miles away. He made the 
run in sixty-five minutes. It was there that he located a 
town site. 

The great race was over, everyone staked off his 
ground. Those that entered with Pawnee Bill fared well, 
the best section of the entire strip was theirs to choose 
from. Lillie in the early days as a cattleman had ranged 
over thousands and thousands of acres in Oklahoma, he 
knew its every trail, and he knew the best land. 

Oklahoma became his permanent home. He invested in 
cattle and became actively interested in all that portended 

[167] 



Thrilling Lives 

for the public welfare. Time rolled on and he was elected 
to the presidency of the Arkansas City bank, which office 
he still holds. Despite the fact of business cares at Paw- 
nee, Major Lillie pined for excitement, something to get 
the red blood coursing through his veins as in the days of 
old. The travel fever seized him. 

One day his brother strolled in the bank and found the 
Major pondering over a lot of railroad maps. 

"Going on a trip ?" 

''Yes, Al, and I'm going to take you with me." 

"Whereto?" 

"Oh, around the country, I'm going to organize a Wild 
West and Far East exhibition." 

"You must be crazy." 

"Well we'll take a chance anyway." And as good as 
his word Major LilHe began the organization of a show 
that was to see maniy ups and downs and that sooner or 
later was to figure mightily in the big amusement enter- 
prises of the world. 

The first attempt was a crude affair. Lillie painted all 
the wagons himself, just to see that they were done right. 
He bought horses, secured the services of a fine band of 
Pawnee Indians and the season commenced. 

[i68] 




iy THE GATBV^^y ^0\ 




^ MAJOR. LILUEL'S OKLAHOMA HOMEi \ 



^^"l^^ 



AT PAWNBE. 








i*-'&^^ 



$X ^t 




INDIAN CO UN CI L. HOUSE, 



AVIEV/FI^'^M 
^LUBHAV^KPEAK 
OVKR.LO0KING 



Off to Europe 

Reverses greeted the show at every hand. The section 
it played through was not interested in cowboys or In- 
dians or the Wild West. It was hard going for Pawnee 
Bill. 

"Confound it," he said one day, "there must be some- 
thing wrong, this show is alright, and the public wants 
entertainment. But they wont come. I'll stick until they 
do or bust." 

And he did both. 

For a few seasons the show played to various streaks of 
fortune. It was a hand-to-mouth affair nearly all the 
time. 

"All I had to eat for three days was one apple," con- 
fided Al Lillie to the author not long ago. 

But finally fortune turned. The show seemed in a 
single night to swivel from a loser to a big profit maker. 
Thus encouraged. Pawnee Bill had ideas of expanding his 
scope. 

"Why not go to Europe?" some one suggested. 

And soon after came an offer that was too tempting to 
overlook. There was to be a World's Fair at Antwerp. 
Nations from every continent were to be represented. 

[169] 



Thrilling Lives 

*7ust the place for your Wild West," one of his mana- 
gers confided to Lillie. 

"It don't sound so very good to me." 

"But Fve been there a dozen times and know how crazy 
those people will be to see this show." 

Almost against his better judgment Major Lillie was in- 
duced to take the trip across the seas. 

It didn't take long after landing for the Major to see 
that the natives were very much interested in his exhibi- 
tion. They would flock around the tents from morning to 
night. This was during the time that the show was get- 
ting in readiness to exhibit. Elaborate preparations were 
made to accommodate the thousands of spectators. 

"Say, Pawnee Bill," exclaimed his manager, "look at 
that jam of people, I tell you this is going to be a knock- 
out, we'll stand 'em in so tight that we'll have to take the 
painted letters off the tent. Don't it look good — aren't 
you glad you came ?" 

"I'll tell you better after a week or so," the Major re- 
plied. 

The day of opening arrived at last. Banners swept the 
breeze, bands played, spielers in brazen voice announced 

[170] 



A Crushing Blow 

the different events, and the box office was ready to ac- 
commodate the crowds that would jam in. 

"Now watch 'em come/' exclaimed the excited and 
jubilant manager. 

There were thousands of people on the exposition 
grounds, they walked around the front entrance of the 
Wild West with bulging eyes. They craned necks to get 
a peep over the top canvas, they were astounded at the 
cowboys, they were interested in everything that went on 
outside, but that was all. 

Only a handful paid admission. 

It was a crushing blow. 

And so it lasted. For weeks they would not spend a 
dollar to see the exhibition. Pawnee Bill used every cent 
he had to pay salaries and expenses, and when the exposi- 
tion closed he had reached the limit of his resources. After 
securing return tickets for his people he had just enough 
left for himself to take a second passage back. The ani- 
mals and entire equipment were left in Antwerp. 

Pawnee Bill returned to America a much wiser and 
sadder man. He set to work one day figuring how much 
he owed. It was not a day's task but a week's. The sum 
was staggering — over a half million dollars. There was 

[171] 



Thrilling Lives 

only one thing to do, face his creditors and tell them his 
troubles. A meeting was called. 

"Gentlemen," began Pawnee Bill, '*I have figured up 
my debts, they amount to something over five hundred 
thousand dollars, you are my sole creditors, every cent 
that I owe has been lost honestly in the show business." 

"Have you a proposition to offer?" 

"I have a little property left, it would not bring over a 
few thousand dollars, I don't want you to take that, I want 
and I intend to pay each and every one of you dollar for 
dollar. But you have to help me." 

"Can you suggest a plan?" 

"It's this, I am going to work for you, each of you^ 
until every dollar I owe is paid back. I want you to give 
me more time." 

"Willingly," one said, and they all agreed. 

"And beside, I want you, gentlemen, to raise one hun- 
dred thousand dollars between you, and lend it to me. 
With that capital I will get out of debt." 

It was an astounding proposition. The creditors sat 
spellbound at the request, which seemed nervy enough for 
a man to make who was in pawn then for a half million. 

"Lillie, I believe in you," one of the heaviest creditors 
[172] 



Raises Big Loan 

said, "and for one I'm going to see you through." Then 
turning to the others, **are you gentlemen willing to take 
this chance?" 

"Yes," came the reply and the hundred thousand dol- 
lars was raised for the undaunted showman. 



[173 



CHAPTER XVII. 



The Origin of the Wild West, Its Progress, History 
AND Importance. 




j^O MY very good friend, Mr. Louis E. Cooke, 

I am indebted for the facts of this chapter. 

For thirty-five years Mr. Cooke has been 

most prominently identified with all the big 

shows, such as W. W. Cole, Forepaugh, Sells, 

Barnum & Bailey, Buffalo Bill's Wild West, Pawnee Bill's 

Far East, which have known and benefited by his capable 

labors. 

The facts in this chapter, from Mr. Cooke, who has 
followed the Wild West's career, will prove of double 
value, interesting and authoritative. 

In 1883 the citizens of North Platte, Nebraska, all of 
whom were fighting patriots of the most indomitable red, 
white and blue stripes, resolved to hold a first Fourth of 
July celebration, of the unique and exhilarating character 
of the day, with power to select the features for the "Old 

[175] 



Thrilling Lives 

Glory" blow out, and to make all arrangements appertain- 
ing thereto. Great was the general surprise, apprehension 
and remonstrance when Col. Cody announced that the feats 
and festivities of the day would be heroically localized to 
include wild buffaloes, wild steers, wild bronchos, wild In- 
dians, cowboys, noted plainsmen, personally identified with 
recent stirring events, and other strenuous attractions 
mostly inclined to buck at the mere sight of civilization. 
The attendance was unprecedented for that section, the 
whole country for a radius of over one hundred and fifty 
miles being temporarily depopulated. 

Thus in a still distant and debatable region, a wilder- 
ness over which the buffalo roamed and the hostile savage 
prowled ; under most difficult and dangerous conditions ; 
in furtherance of a purely patriotic purpose, was roughly 
organized an ephemeral celebration, destined through Col. 
Cody's efforts and masterful personality to become not 
only the progenitor of all the "Frontier Day" State and 
Inter-State tournaments since and still given in the West, 
and ranking as the most popular attraction at its greatest 
holiday gatherings, but to serve as the basic idea for an 
American revelation ; border warfare and illustriously il- 
lustrative educational entertainment; the only one of its 

[176] 



First Performance 

kind, and which has electrified and conquered the civilized 
world, and all the rulers and greatest soldiers, statesmen, 
educators, scientists, artists, horsemen and historians 
thereof. 

Realizing from the strange, spirited and unprecedented 
object leason created through his efforts at North Platte, 
its magnificent and meritorious possibilities, in 1882 Col. 
Cody enthusiastically devoted all his practical knowledge 
of the plains and intimate acquaintance and superior in- 
fluence with both the white and red denizens thereof, to 
the organization of "BuflFalo Bill's Wild West," which 
gave its initial performance at Omaha, Neb., in May, 1883, 
and was witnessed by the writer, and even though then 
lacking many of the notable exclusive features and original 
living attractions from time to time since introduced, it 
scored so instantaneously and heavily that it became fam- 
ous in a day, and en route to Boston was greeted by 
record-breaking, boundlessly enthusiastic crowds on the 
race tracks and in the fair grounds where it was at first 
compelled to exhibit. Its season at the Hub was succeeded 
by its first one in New York City, at Gravesend Race 
Track, where its success was so instantaneous and un- 
qualified as, upon its removal to grounds adjoining the 

[177] 



Thrilling Lives 

Brighton Beach Race Track, Coney Island, to induce it 
to estabUsh thereon its first enclosed arena and grand 
stand. Next in sensationally progressive order came its 
extraordinary six months' season in co-operation with Mr. 
Erastus Wiman at Erastina, Staten Island, where in the 
presence of hundreds and hundreds of thousands, it in- 
augurated the precedent for summer open-air exhibitions 
which, in various forms, have since come to stay at the big 
seaside resorts and elsewhere. 

Then came the memorable winter season of 1886-7, in 
which Col. Cody set the whole amusement world agog 
with wonder and admiration in connection with the "Wild 
West," by inaugurating in Madison Square Garden, New 
York City, a gigantic new era and departure in colossally 
realistic scenic production under the personal direction of 
Mr. Louis E. Cooke, with the aid of such famous pro- 
ducers as the late Steele Mackey who wrote the scenario 
of the great Drama of Civilization; with scenic effects 
from the brush of Mr. Matt Morgan, who was acknowl- 
edged as one of the greatest artists of the day, with such 
mechanical effects as were worked out by Mr. Nelse Wald- 
ron, the master mechanic who devised the first double or 
moving stage used in a theatre. Day after day and night 

[178] 



Before the Queen 

after night, the Wild West and Col. Cody attracted 
throngs of the illustrious veteran Indian fighters under 
whom he had served as Chief of Scouts, in many a hard- 
fought campaign, and both native and foreign representa- 
tives of every branch of military service. Such authorities 
as Sheridan, Sherman, Merritt, Carr and Miles, showered 
congratulations and encomiums upon their old friend and 
implicitly trusted comrade in arms and on the war path. 

Thus heralded and indorsed, in 1887 Buffalo Bill's Wild 
West made its first trip to Europe to prove the most popu- 
lar feature of Queen Victoria's Jubilee, held in celebration 
of the semi-centennial of her benign reign. Earl's Court, 
London, was selected as the location, upon which at an 
enormous expense was built a huge arena and a grand 
stand of 20,000 seating capacity. These and other im- 
provements have been preserved, and Earl's Court is 
locally known as "London's Playground." So unparal- 
leled was the Wild West's prestige that Queen Victoria 
was induced to visit it, and the magnitude of the compli- 
ment involved may be inferred from the fact that it was 
her Majesty's first public appearance since the death of 
her husband, Prince Albert, twenty years before. Nor 
did her Majesty's gracious recognition end there, for so 

[179] 



Thrilling Lives 

deeply was she impressed and delighted with the Wild 
West's novel, electrifying and educational superexcellence, 
that, by her special command, a performance was given for 
the entertainment of the three thousand royal representa- 
tives assembled from every part of the vast British Em- 
pire and the globe, in honor of the Jubilee with which the 
fiftieth year of her sovereignty was so joyfully crowned. 
On that occasion the Prince of Wales (Edward Seventh), 
taking Col. Wm. F. Cody aside, said to him: 

''Colonel, look around you and you will see more 
Royalty than I ever before have seen at any time, and un- 
doubtedly more than ever was assembled on any one oc- 
casion in the World's history or is likely ever again to 
be." 

Returning to New York in 1888, the Wild West ap^ 
peared for the summer season of that year and for the 
second time at Erastina, and in 1889 again crossed the At- 
lantic to become the leading attraction of Paris, during the 
Exposition Universale, an arena and grand stand having 
been built for it the previous winter in the military zone 
outside the old walls of Paris, at Nueilley. In the fall of 
the same year the exhibition moved to Barcelona, Spain, 
and thence crossed the Mediterranean to Naples, Italy, 

[i8o] 



Indian Outbreak 

where it opened January 26, 1890. Passing on to Rome, 
the Wild West next visited all of the leading cities of Aus- 
tria, Hungary and Germany, including Vienna and Berlin. 
The Sioux Indian outbreak at Pine Ridge Agency, 
known as the "Ghost Dance War," caused Col. Cody to 
peremptorily close his exhibition at Strasburg, Alsace, and 
to start post haste to lend a strong hand in the threatened 
conflict. The exhibition was put in winter quarters in an 
old castle near Banfeldt, and Major Burke, having the big 
contingent of Indian Chiefs and braves in charge, sailed 
from Antwerp to Washington, where in an interview with 
President Harrison, and at his special request, they, one 
and all, promised to act as peacemakers; which promise 
was faithfully and eflfectively kept. Meantime, Col. Cody 
had reached the field of action with the rank of Brigadier 
General of Militia, and as Advisory Scout to General Nel- 
son A. Miles. Subsequently Major General Jesse M. Lee 
and John M. Burke were appointed Peace Commissioners 
representing the U. S. Government, at a Grand Council 
met 10,000 Sioux Chiefs and warriors, and persuaded 
them to lay down their arms and make a treaty of peace, 
undoubtedly the last of the kind that will ever be required 
between the Red Man and the Pale Face. 

[i8i] 



Thrilling Lives 

April 1, 1891, Col. Cody sailed from Philadelphia to re- 
join his exhibition, taking with him from Fort Sheridan, 
Kicking Bear, Short Bull, and twenty-five other rebellious 
Sioux leaders, held as hostages, and who were entrusted to 
his care at the special request of General Miles and Sco- 
field, that travel and observation might modify their sav- 
age prejudices, convince them that the white man, notwith- 
standing his infinitely superior numbers and resources, was 
not inclined to oppress them, and that in the maintenance 
of peace and good will lay their only hope. As a result, 
these hostiles became the best and most progressive citi- 
zens on the reservations. 

Reopening at Strasburg, April 19, the continental tour 
included the cities on the Upper Rhine and Brussels, the 
capital of Belgium, and then via Antwerp, the wonderful 
invasion sailed across to the "tight little isle," and was 
continued throughout the provinces of England, until 
winter found the exhibition housed in the Exposition 
Building at Glasgow, Scotland, altered to admit of the pro- 
duction of the heroic scenic spectacle of war and wilder- 
ness, as given in Madison Square Garden, New York City, 
five years before. 

[182] 



Thousands Turned Away 

Opened at Earl's Court for the second time, May 7, 
1892, and was commanded to appear before Queen Vic- 
toria, on the Lawn Tennis Grounds at Windsor Castle; 
the first entertainment of any kind given there in the 
twenty-five years succeeding the Prince Consort's death. 
The honor of a second presentation was also accorded by 
Her Majesty, who gave Col. Cody a magnificent signet 
ring, and Mr. Nate Salisbury and Major Burke imperial 
souvenir pins. Closed season October 12, sailed for 
America, October 15, arrived in New York the 26th, im- 
mediately began pushing the work of building Buffalo 
Bill's Annex to the Chicago World's Fair, opened it in 
April, 1893, and to such phenomenally continuous patron- 
age, that the attendance rivalled that of the Fair itself. 
In the spring of 1894, opened Ambrose Park, Brooklyn, 
upon which over one hundred thousand dollars had been 
expended in improvements and additional conveniences. 
On the road in 1895, and in the spring of 1896 followed 
the Barnum & Bailey Show in Madison Square Garden, 
in the course of its four weeks' season there being com- 
pelled to turn clamoring thousands from its doors from 
lack of capacity, every seat being sold from days to weeks 
in advance, after which the exhibition began touring the 

[183] 



Thrilling Lives 

country as a traveling organization under the able direc- 
tion of Mr. James A. Bailey, and the succeeding five con- 
secutive home seasons were also inaugurated in the 
Garden and continued with undiminished eclat throughout 
the length and breadth of the land, the Dominion of Can- 
ada, and as far West as San Francisco, even including 
many prosperous cities younger than itself, now orna- 
menting the redeemed wilderness, and transforming the 
dark and bloody region of its birtk. The enthusiasm with 
which it was there received is simply beyond adequate 
description, and swelled into a continuous ovation most 
vigorously participated in by the grizzled old timers, to 
whom its historic truthfulness and realistic reproductions 
of stirring events, and glorious pastimes, "all of which 
they saw, and part of which they were," appealed like a 
resurrecting trumpet. The test it thus courted was the 
severest to which it could be put, and the result not only 
speaks volumes for its character, but furnished the key- 
note of its success throughout the world. 

At the close of the traveling season of 1902, Col. Cody 
and his army of braves and rougk riders of the world, 
once more took the trail leading across the big salt waters, 
and appeared for the ensuing winter at Olympia, London, 

[184] 




a rf 



Cody Eulogized 

making farewell tours of England, Scotland and Wales in 
1903-4. In 1905, on the famous Champ de Mars, it more 
than duplicated its previous rousing Parisian triumphs. In 
1906, opening at Marseilles, France, it made its final con- 
tinental tour, which included Italy, Hungary, Galicia, Sla- 
vonia, Bohemia, Croatia, Belgium, Austria and Germany, 
and in November returned home, with added victorious 
wreaths 'bound on its brow, having visited, in the last four 
years, countries and principalities that, besides patois, 
spoke seventeen different languages. 

While this is, and is intended to be, but little more than 
a summary itinerary of "Buffalo Bill's Wild West and 
Congress of Rough Riders of the World," it is alone suf- 
ficient to forestall eulogy and establish a firm conviction of 
its transcendent wondrous worth and superexcellence as 
universally recognized by the stranger abroad as the friend 
at home. Thus, Col. Cody and the enterprise of which he 
is the creator, stand conspicuously and uniquely alone, as 
a mighty and marvelous educative and instructive influ- 
ence ; a credit to their country and a delight and benefit to 
the world. And as they are, so will they remain. 

As may be readily imagined, the difficulties in staging 
this monster enterprise were many and varied. For a 

[185] 



Thrilling Lives 

number of years Johnny Baker has had active charge of 
the arena, his directorship has been nothing less than mar- 
velous. 

Mr. Baker has been with the exhibition since its incep- 
tion, he is the foster son and pupil of Buffalo Bill, and 
long has been acknowledged the world's foremost expert 
marksman. Mr. Baker has had to manipulate and manoeu- 
vre the actions of over one thousand men, women and 
horses, a herculean task, one that has been accomplished 
to the highest point of efficiency. No stage director in the 
world has had as many difficulties to surmount, a generous 
portion of credit is due to his ever untiring efforts. 

In the Spring of 1908 Major Lillie was playing an all- 
summer engagement at Boston, he made a flying trip to 
New York, and following a conference with Colonel 
Cody came the announcement of a gigantic merger, the 
largest ever consummated in the amusement field. 

It was then that the Buffalo Bill Wild West combined 
with Pawnee Bill's Great Far East. The first joint season 
commenced at Madison Square Garden in 1909. 



[i86 



CHAPTER XVIII. 



The Jekyll and Hyde of the West. 




;AWNEE bill looked long and carefully at 
the hundred thousand dollars. It was the 
chance he asked for, he must make good 
and make good he did. Reorganizing his 
show, he added to it, secured new features 
and with the experience of the past it wasn't long before 
profits began to appear on the right side of his ledger. 

Dollar by dollar his debts disappeared, and a few months 
after all bills had been cleared away the creditors were 
surprised by checks in their mail for the entire amount of 
interest due from the very first. 

For several years he continued with his exhibition. The 
struggles and worries of showmanship wore on him. He 
had amassed a comfortable fortune and decided to retire to 
devote his time to raising buffaloes. He purchased the 

[187] 



Thrilling Lives 

Casey herd then located in Missouri and moved them to 
his ranch just south of Pawnee. They became his sole 
study. He was successtul beyond all expectations. At that 
time there were not over a thousand bison in the country. 
Less than a generation before there had been a million. 
No one dreamt of their ultimate destruction but it was 
closer at hand than the casual student of history was 
aware. To the westward march of progress, the blame 
has been laid, but Lillie, as many others knew, it was the 
failure of the government to take steps necessary to pro- 
tect the bison from disappearing altogether. Major Lillie 
prepared a bill to be introduced in Congress asking that 
immediate action be taken to perpetuate the purely Ameri- 
can animal. 

At that time the government owned a small herd in Yel- 
lowstone Park, but it did not multiply rapidly. The bill 
that Lillie wanted introduced in Congress would have pro- 
vided an appropriation to secure a ranch far removed from 
civilization, as buffaloes do not thrive otherwise. They 
multiply better when turned out summer and winter, as 
nature intended they should be ; a buffalo calf will survive 
a blizzard that would mean death to the toughest of ranch 
cattle. Nature has taught them to defy winter and has 

[i88] 



Offers Buffajloes 

provided them with a coat of sufficient warmth to keep 
them from suffering with the cold. 

Pawnee Bill worked for months to have the matter 
taken under consideration but the bills were side-tracked. 
Finally his persistence was rewarded by the query : 

"Suppose we carry these bills through," asked a Con- 
gressman, "where will we buy the buflFaloes ?" 

"You don't need to buy tliem," Pawnee Bill replied, "I 
will donate my entire herd to the Government." 

Still time dragged on and nothing seemed to be reached 
in the shape of a conclusion that Pawnee Bill desired. 
Steps were finally taken, however, to preserve the bison 
and Major Lillie had won a great victory. For years he 
collected all the pure blooded buffalo that he could buy. 
He spent most of his time studying their traits. One day 
it struck him that a new breed of bison might be discovered 
by interlining with domestic cattle ; the experiment proved 
a vast success, Pawnee Bill, at this time has the largest 
individual herd of pure blooded buffaloes in the world. 

In 1907 he reorganized his Wild West and conceived the 
idea of adding to it a separate feature "The Far East," 
the latter section being composed of curious peoples from 

[189] 



Thrilling Lives 

far and distant lands. The venture was immensel)' suc- 
cessful. 

As showman and banker, Major Lillie met with many 
remarkable and amusing incidents. One day he was sit- 
ting in his office at the Arkansas City bank in Pawnee, 
when an old Indian Chief walked in the room. The true 
western spirit of hospitality and man to man equality still 
prevails in many sections of the West, even an Indian can 
walk in a banker's private office and be entertained. 

The Indian had come on business connected with the 
show's trip the next season, he wanted some special con- 
sideration. It was the first time that he had ever been on 
the road, in fact, in all his years he had never left the boun- 
daries of the agency. 

Just then the telephone rang. The Major talked a few 
minutes then hung up the receiver. 

"What is that you make talk into," the Chief asked in 
surprise ; it was the first telephone he had ever seen. The 
Major explained how it worked. 

"It just talk, white man talk though," the Chief 
grunted. 

"No, it talk Pawnee too?" 

The Chief could not believe it, Lillie went to one of the 
[190] 



Signs Bank Notes 

outside offices, put an interpreter on the extension and 
then gave the receiver to the Chief. For several minutes 
the latter talked, with every second his eyes bulging larger 
and larger in wonderment. 

"What do yon think of that ?" Lillie asked. 

The old Chief sat still for a minute. 

'That's one of the white man's inventions." 

"White man very smart, to make that talk white man's 
talk, but to make wire talk Pawnee talk, him damn smart." 

"Major, excuse me," a clerk said, entering with a hand 
full of greenbacks, "will you please sign these." 

A telegram a few minutes later called the Major to 
Chicago in a hurry. There was a train whistling at the 
depot, without stopping Lillie made a dash for it just as 
the cars were pulling away from the station. Arriving at 
Chicago he transacted his business and stepped up to the 
hotel counter to settle his bill. To his amazement he found 
that he had only a little small change. He was about to 
ask for a check book when he remembered having some 
of the unsigned bank notes in his pocket. Pulling out a 
sheet of these he asked for pen and ink and then a pair of 
scissors. The clerk was thunderstruck, it was the first time 
he had ever seen anyone sign greenbacks. Before he had 

[191] 



Thrilling Lives 

recovered his astonishment, LilHe was on his way to a 
bank nearby. 

After greeting its president and while just sitting down 
for a chat, the banker's bell rang, and a second later a 
man entered the room. 

*'I beg your pardon," he said, addressing himself to the 
banker, "do you know this man," pointing to Major Lillie. 

"Yes, indeed." 

"Well I'm sorry, but I have to place him under arrest." 

"Arrest," Lillie exclaimed in surprise. "Who the deuce 
are you ?" 

"I'm from a local detective agency and have been in- 
structed to take you in for forging a bank note." 

Lillie's face was covered in smiles. 

"Come on, sir, or I'll have to put the cuffs on you." 

"Why, you idiot," exclaimed the banker, "don't you 
know who that is. This gentleman is Major Gordon W. 
Lillie." 

"That don't entitle him to sign greenbacks, does it? 
Anyway he used the name of Pawnee Bill." 

"That's the name he is known by among the public who 
[192] 



^^H 


^9 


HH| 




^^^Mm 




^^B^^^^^^^^^Br^P<^^^<l^lH^^^Ml^^^lE_ 


^^^^1 


^,-y^ .^^^^^B^^^^^^^^^^^^BI 


IwM 


^P^^^N 


L^l 


y$.n 




" 


. . .^-.. ' . .. . j:^d^::m^.ty. 



MAJOR G. W. LILLIE, CONSULTING HIS GENERAL 

MANAGER, LOUIS E. COOKE, AT BLUE 

HAWK PEAK. MRS. LILLIE AND HER PET 

COYOTE ON THE RIGHT. 



Jekyll and Hyde 

have witnessed his exhibition, he is a banker and is entitled 
to sign greenbacks as the president of his institution." 

The detective looked sheepish. 

"Well I'll be darned, a showman and a banker and a fel- 
low that can sign his own greenbacks — well, talk about 
your Jekyll and Hydes, he has 'em all beat a mile." 




[193 



CHAPTER XIX 



CoDY-'s Last Time On the Battlefield. 




'HE breaking of Indian treaties so frequently 
and the invasion of the Black Hills and other 
sections by gold seekers, prospectors and 
trappers became the cause of constant irri- 
tation, leading to almost continual contests, 
raids and massacres on the Western plains. This was the 
condition of aflfairs that really brought on the war of 
1875-76, resulting in the Custer fight as well as many of 
the succeeding ones. 

The forfeiture of the Black Hills and injudicious re- 
ductions of rations kept discontent alive among the In- 
dians. When in 1889 Congress passed a law dividing the 
Sioux reservation into many smaller ones so as to isolate 
the different tribes or clans of the Dakotas, a treaty was 
submitted, whereby reinstating the cut off rations and 
paying for ponies captured or destroyed in the '76 war 

[195] 



Thrilling Lives 

and for other certain conditions, they ceded about one- 
half their land, eleven million acres. Fulfilment of the 
conditions was delayed, — postponed, forgotten, almost by 
Congress. Even after the land was being settled up, 
Congress had still neglected the appropriations and Sit- 
ting Bull's power was again in the ascendant. 

At this time, through some mysterious mountain phan- 
tom or trickster, the "Medicine Men" became easy victims 
of a craze. They believed that the Messiah was coming 
back to earth to use his miraclous power in favor of the 
red man, to crush out the whites; to restore everything 
to the idealistic condition of former years and re-stock 
the ranges with big game. This created a universal fa- 
natical fervor, not only among the Sioux but affected all 
the Indians on this continent. Former foes became fast 
friends, and from the Yaquis in Old Mexico to the Alas- 
kan tribes in the Far North, the religious ghost dance 
festivities fanned the flames of war. The Medicine Men's 
preaching that the holy medicinal ghost shirts would pro- 
tect the wearer, turn the white man's bullets, was ac- 
cepted and made recruits by the thousands to the cause. 
The dancing frightened the settlers, shocked the religious 

[196] 



Cody to Rescue 

philanthropic friends of the Indians and was officially 
ordered stopped. 

Buffalo Bill was at that time in Alsace-Lorraine with 
his Wild West exhibition and had with him seventy-five 
Indians. Leaving the exhibition in an old Castle near 
Strasburg, Cody left on fast trains and hastened on to 
the scene of strife in America. The Indians were brought 
home by Major Burke, they made a strong peace contin- 
gent at Pine Ridge, while, with General Miles' permission. 
Col. Cody hastened on to see Sitting Bull in person, feel- 
ing sure that his old enemy and later friend would listen 
to good advice. In war the great Indian chief was a 
bitter foe and Cody's enemy, in peace the two became 
friends. 

Sitting Bull's claim of the primitive possessions for ages 
beyond the white man's coming; of conditions being un- 
disturbed for centuries and as the Great Manitou had 
ordained were the arguments that he advanced. He had 
all the old treaties in his head in the Indian legendary man- 
ner, also in hieroglyphics; he had a copy of the treaty 
that set aside the part of the Dakota for the Sioux use. 
And the Big Horn Basin was to be used as a hunting 
ground. The old man had this well worn parchment in 

[197] 



Thrilling Lives 

a buckskin cover and treasured it as one would the arti- 
cles or legacy to one's birthright. Sitting Bull had a 
very strong, determined face, a splendid head, well set 
on a long-bodied short-legged frame. 

The fact that Buffalo Bill was willing to take the risk 
of acting as peacemaker with the Indian chief, alarmed 
some well meaning philanthropists, they divining a sinis- 
ter motive in his action. Those who were crying the 
strongest for Sitting Bull's suppression now claimed that 
his person was endangered by the very man who had 
travelled thousands of miles at his own expense, risking 
his all and with nothing to gain — Buffalo Bill. Going 
to a hostile camp of Indians, chancing all on the card of 
friendship and man to man respect was a dangerous un- 
dertaking, but Cody was prompted to do so solely to save 
his red brother from a suicidal craze. Influence was 
brought to bear on President Harrison and the statement 
made that Cody's visit would bring on a war, the chief 
executive countermanded the mission. Afterwards Presi- 
dent Harrison expressed his regrets to Colonel Cody. 

Colonel Drum, commandant at Fort Yates, and 
Major McLaughlin were ordered to co-operate to secure 
the person of Sitting Bull. Henry Bull, lieutenant of the 

[198] 



All Police Killed 

Indian police, had intimated that the old chief was pre- 
paring his horses for a long ride. Couriers were sent to 
tell him to quietly arrest Sitting Bull. Major Edmund G. 
Fatchet of the Eighth Cavalry and a Hotchkiss gun were 
sent to support him. 

After a hard ride, just at dawn they saw a man coming 
at full speed on Sitting Bull's favorite ''White Horse," a 
Kentucky charger that had been presented to him by 
Buffalo Bill three years before. The man was an Indian 
policeman. 

"All police killed," he yelled. 

Riding like mad, they arrived to find but few of the 
police still alive and still fighting from Sitting Bull's 
cabin, being surrounded on all sides. Volley after volley 
was poured in unexpectedly on the besiegers and a few 
shells from the Hotchkiss scattered them, the beleaguered 
were relieved. 

The attacking party had reached Sitting Bull's cabin 
early in the morning, surrounded it, and capturing the 
chief in bed, arrested him. While dressing, his son, Crow- 
foot, alarmed the camp. Bull harangued his friends, fren- 
zied by the thought, no doubt, that his own tribesmen 
were his captors, not feeling for them that respect he 
would have had for the military. 

[199] 



Thrilling Lives 

Catch-the-Bear and Strlke-the-Kettle dashed in and 
fired, hitting Bull Head in the side, who fired and killed 
Sitting Bull. The latter, firing as he fell, Shave Head 
was shot in the abdomen, and all three fell together. The 
fight became general, until the arrival of Major Fatchet 
and several police, many of the Ghost dancers were killed. 
Thus was ended the life of the chief whose faults and 
virtues will long be a subject of discussion, but who will 
always stand as the great red chief of the Uncapappa 
Sioux. 

Cody returned to Nebraska, where he was ordered by 
Governor Thayer to join the Nebraska National Guard, 
with General Colby. Cody was himself a Brigadier Gen- 
eral. They entered the battlefield at Pine Ridge and 
placed the militia in effective position to surround the hos- 
tiles. Then Buffalo Bill joined General Miles as advisory 
Scout and used his great personal influence to pacify the 
Indians. Through General Miles' stern measures and 
at the same time diplomatic methods, the greatest planned 
of Indian uprisings was quickly suppressed through the 
bloody battles of Wounded Knee and The Mission — they 
were the last struggle of the red man — the finale of all 
Indian wars. 

[ 200] 




BUFFALO BILL BIDS YOU GOOD BYE 



A SUGGESTION DESIGNED BY LOUIS E. COOKE 

FOR THE PROPOSED MONUMENT TO THE 

AMERICAN INDIAN, TO BE ERECTED 

IN NEW YORK HARBOR BY MR. 

RODNEY WANAMAKER. 



CHAPTER XX 



Buffalo Bill's Vast Properties. 




ACK to the land, back to the farm, is the warn- 
ing cry of the nation's most distinguished 
social economists — political and commercial 
leaders, railroad magnates and statesmen — 
conservation, irrigation and subjugation of 
arid territory to the husbandmen's productive power is a 
national issue. 

With the teeming millions of people, with the sense 
and judgment from the congested centers, having already 
appropriated all the available land, necessity forces atten- 
tion to the possibilities in the ahnost equal number of 
virgin acres, classed as arid, that engineering skill can 
make even more productive than the naturally watered 
districts. 

This is the subject of intense discussion today, but 
years and years ago plain, practical men conversant with 
the immense unpeopled territory of the West, like Col. 
Cody, Congressman Cary of Wyoming and others, acted 

[201] 



Thrilling Lives 

as pioneers in advocating a governmental and state move- 
ment that would assist in giving additional homes to mil- 
lions of our people and thus augment the nation's produc- 
tive possibilities, with a certainty, through irrigation. Like 
all movements it had to have its missionaries, and it is 
one of Col. Cody's (Buffalo Bill) pleasant memories that 
with his experience, suggestion and money he was in the 
advance guard among those demonstrating the utility, 
feasibility and practicability of achievement on these lines. 
It was his fortune in the early days, as well as his duty 
as an army scout, to learn the secret recesses and impreg- 
nable fortresses, furnished them by nature, to which the 
aboriginal contestants of the white man's progress re- 
treated to live in security and peace. Thus it was that 
he, an early hunter, trailed and scouted, in that then most 
extremely dangerous and secluded home of the red man, 
strongly fortified with immense mountains as a barrier 
to encroachment — now known as the Big Horn Basin. 
With the army as scout and on expeditions with the gal- 
lant Custer, Mills, Carr, Miles and others, he became fa- 
miliar with the valley and its surrounding wonderland — 
the Yellowstone Park, the Teton Range, the Snowy 

[202] 



Cody Canai. Built 

Pryor, Shoshone and Big Horn Mountains that separated 
it from the rest of the world. 

In 1893 Buffalo Bill and many conferees took up the 
initiative in bringing about its settlement. He and his 
associates acquired under the Gary act the first claims 
that were endorsed by the national and state governments 
and began the pioneering of its settlement. The opening 
struggles in such a scheme are but a repetition of history 
and were as usual eventually overcome. The first Cody 
canal was built, success and prosperity developed grad- 
ually until now the future is assured and the empty valley 
is being traversed by railroads finished and many others 
projected, thousands of farmers, miners' and prospectors, 
so that this vast valley, the size of the State of Massachu- 
setts, is dotted with towns and cities. 

Progress was so rapid that all the available land under 
the first canal was taken and through Col. Cody's influ- 
ence and surrender of his proprietary rights to the govern- 
ment, the Reclamation Service has been performing one 
of its most gigantic tasks in the furthering of future pros- 
perity. This is none other than the recently completed 
highest dam, in the world, known as the Shoshone Dam. 

Buffalo Bill owns thousands of cattle and horses, is 
[203] 



Thrilling Lives 

heavily interested in many mining properties in Arizona 
and elsewhere, owns and controls the Irma Hotel at Cody, 
Wyo., the Wapiti Inn near Cody on the Yellowstone and 
the Pahaska Teepee at the foot of Sylvan Pass, sixty miles 
from Cody. 

For over half a century, Buffalo Bill has been before 
the public. He can scarcely be said to have had a child- 
hood, he was thrust early among the rough scenes of 
frontier life, to play a man's part. He enlisted in the 
army before he was of age, and did his share in uphold- 
ing the flag during the Civil War as ably as many a 
veteran of forty, and since then he has remained for the 
most part, in his country's service, always ready to sacri- 
fice every personal interest and go to the front in any 
time of danger. He has achieved distinction in many and 
various ways. He is president of the largest irrigation 
enterprise in the world, president of a colonization com- 
pany, of a town site company, and two transportation com- 
panies. He is the foremost seout and champion buffalo 
hunter of the world, one of its greatest crack shots and 
its great popular entertainer. He is broad-minded and 
progressive in his views, inheritifig from both father and 
mother a hatred of oppression in any form. 

[204] 



Home, Sweet Home 

Taking his mother as a standard, he beHeves the fran- 
chise is a birthright which would appertain to intelHgence 
and education, rather than to sex. It is his pubHc career 
that lends an interest to his private life, in which he has 
been a devoted and faithful son, a kind and considerate 
husband, a loving and generous father. "Only the names 
of them that are upright, brave, and true can be honorably 
known," were his mother's dying words; and honorably 
known has his name become, in his own country and be- 
yond the seas. He has visited every country in Europe, 
and has looked upon the most beautiful of Old World 
scenes. He is familiar with all the splendid regions 
of his own land but to him the New Eldorado of the 
West — the Big Horn Basin — is the fairest spot on earth. 

And here, in the shadow of the Rockies, yet in the "very 
light of things" it is his wish to round out the cycle of 
his days, as he began them, in opening up for those who 
come after him the great regions of the still undeveloped 
West. It is here that Buffalo Bill wishes once more to 
roam, and when the curtain of life finally falls, it will be 
his "Home, Sweet Home." 

[205] 



/ 



CHAPTER XXI 



Pawnee Bill's Buffalo Ranch and Home. 




OR years Gordon W. Lillie — Pawnee Bill — 
lived in a modest log cabin built by his own 
hands. It still stands in Pawnee, Oklahoma, 
a memento of his hard work and untiring 
efforts to rung the ladder of success. 
Throughout privations and adversity, the days of law- 
lessness, when brave men were made and tempered 
over night, when the government called him to duty 
as guide, scout, sheriff, and when the territory was 
nearly torn asunder with internecine strife, when vandals 
and cutthroats infested every trail, when the effort to 
make Oklahoma free for settlers was met with stubborn 
resistance by the cattle interests, when he nosed through 
every danger a dozen times a day, when blood had to be 
spilled in defense of the weak — then Major Gordon W. 
Lillie was a man of action, his arm and pocketbook were 

[207] 



Thrilling Lives 

always available for the less fortunate, he was the Indian's 
friend, he was the white man's strongest safeguard. After 
years of vicissitude and privation he struck his gait, and 
after a gradual rise he became in succession white chief 
of the Pawnee Tribe, president of the town's leading bank, 
and succeeded in making his mark one that will indelible 
his great and honored career on the escutcheon of the 
State of Oklahoma. Political honors have been offered 
and gracefully declined. Major Lillie cared nothing for 
this sort of leadership glory, he preferred to remain in the 
rank and file and do all in his power to further the inter- 
ests of the city that he loves and the State that honors and 
respects his conscientious citizenship. 

Last December, 1910, his new bungalow was completed. 
It stands atop the Blue Hawk Peak, so named after one 
of the greatest of Indian warriors and a great friend of 
Major Lillie. Hundreds of invited guests from the elite 
centers of Europe and America journeyed out to the 
prairie. Cowboy boots and the patent leathers of effete 
society toed each other under the Major's hospitable table. 
The citizens of Pawnee turned out en masse to welcome 
the glorious home-coming of their beloved and esteemed 
neighbor — it was an occasion long to be remembered. 

[208] 



Friends Gather 

Artists, writers, men famous in commercial lines and 
the bright lights from many professions gathered to do the 
Major homage. In testimony of their esteem many famous 
artists contributed original and specially painted oil panels 
for the bungalow, among these were artists Charles 
Schreyvogel, Deming, H. H. Cross, Emil Lenders and 
Charles Stevens. Among the others present were: The 
Hon. Wm. F. Cody (Buffalo Bill), H. Wilson and wife 
of Philadelphia, Dr. Moore, Major John M. Burke, Johnny 
Baker, Louis E. Cooke, Albert Lillie, Joseph Miller, of 
Bliss, Oklahoma; S. T. Rock, of Pawnee; Michael 
Russell, of Fargo, North Dakota; Mark L. Stone, of 
Paris, France; Henry Valliers, of Vienna; Major Mc- 
Laughlin, of Philadelphia, and Frank Winch, of New 
York. 

A week of hilarity followed. Each day had its own 
pleasure — automobile trips in Buick cars over the plains, 
Indian dances, small game hunting and receptions, all 
topped off with the wondrous spectacle of witnessing 
Colonel Cody kill a buffalo as he did years ago. 

It was the fulfilment of a promise that Pawnee Bill 
had made to himself years afore, to the effect that, should 
fortune ever favor him, he would stand loyally with the 

[209] 



Thrilling Lives 

village that loved, respected and helped through his trou- 
blesome years of struggle. 

The bungalow would grace any exclusive residential 
section in the world. It was erected at a cost of 
$75,000, and holds within its walls furnishings 
and ornaments that approximate $100,000 more. The 
structure is of a stone exterior made from the native rock 
taken from the location on which it stands. 

The town of Pawnee lies nestled at the foot of Major 
Lillie's fifteen thousand acres of his buffalo ranch — where- 
on graze the largest private herd of buffaloes in the world. 
Approach is made through two massive stone gateways, 
ornamented with the gilded steel initials "F. B.," which 
were made from the rifle barrel once carried by his great 
friend and benefactor, Major Frank North. 

Circling along a sloping knoll, close to the edge of an 
artificial lake with its thousands of gallons of water and 
shaded by trees from every section of the world, is a road 
laid with tons of low grade ore from one of the extensive 
mining properties that the Major owns in Colorado and 
Mexico. The drive is a mile to the hill top, at frequent 
intervals intersectioned with stone statues indicative of 
scenes and characters of the early wild western days. 

[210] 



Blue Hawk Peak 

To your right the eye travels in unobstructed view for 
miles, taking in at a glance the new magnificent hospital 
and sanitarium that Pawnee Bill erected for the city. A bit 
further along you see the ten thousand dollar public school 
house that also stands as a memorial to the Major's gen- 
erosity. And further yet looms up the old log cabin that 
housed Pawnee Bill through his early days of privation 
and hardship. 

Approaching the hilltop, the eye is staggered with the 
beauteous panoramic splendor of scenic glory that unfurls 
itself on every side. Blue Hawk Peak is the highest point 
of elevation in the county — for miles and miles the eye 
ranges over rolling plains, by day golden brown under a 
soft summer-like sun, and by night punctuated here and 
there with the sizzling flames of a genuine old time prairie 
fire. 

The first building approached is the Pawnee and Osage 
Indian council and medicine house. A most wondrous 
testimonial to the building skill of the native Indians. 
There are only two of these structures in the world. Time 
and civilization have left but little for the fast disappear- 
ing red man. Major Lillie was determined that as long 
as he had a home, the friends and foes of an earlier period 

[211] 



Thrilling Lives 

should not want for a place. It is a circular affair, with 
walls four feet thick made of stone and mud overlapping 
huge timbers set end to end and notched. There is not an 
iron nail in the entire building, and the whole was con- 
structed by Indian labor according to the plans of former 
council houses and paid for by the Major and then do- 
nated to the tribe as a perpetual remembrance of his es- 
teem and friendship to the Pawnee and Osage Indians. 
It is here that they gather in all their regalia, feathers and 
fanciful colored blankets for their war dances and exhor- 
tations. The ceremonies are of very deep purport to the 
Indians and usually last from three days to a week, the 
strictest privacy being maintained so that none but the 
red men are allowed to' attend. 

Continuing on, you reach the old settler's cabin, an exact 
replica of the only kind of dwelling known in the frontier 
days. A huge log cabin with every detail carried out to 
its minutest point. There are three rooms, the center 
being the living room and flanked on both sides with bed- 
rooms of generous proportions and equipped with just 
such crude furniture as one would find in the days of '59. 

The center room has a seven foot open fireplace, dirt 
floors, the old-fashioned cupboard with its heavy crockery 

[212] 



Elegant Mansion 

and tins, the walls are embellished with trophies of the 
chase, several rifles that were used in warfare, Indian 
relics, blankets, tomahawks, arrows and scalping knives. 
To the Easterner, this cabin presents a world of sugges- 
tions for deep study and retrospective thought. 

A bit further along is the garage and stable. An ele- 
gant pile of native stone and hardwood, in keeping with 
the general exterior finish scheme of the bungalow. There 
are three automobiles, a dozen of the finest equipages and 
fifteen blooded Arabian and Kentucky horses. A few steps 
more and the bungalow. 

If Aladdin of the Arabian Nights were to arrive today 
and wanted to astound the community with a building 
venture he would borrow the plans from which Pawnee 
Bill erected his home. Fifth Avenue in New York would 
nudge elbows with its neighbor in genuine pride were 
it placed there. 

The house is constructed with native stone taken from 
the site on which it stands. The hardwood interior is all 
selected from the rarest and most expensive materials that 
go to make any home elegant. There is a spread of re- 
fined lavishness on all sides. 

Entering through massive stone arches, you twist the 

[213] 



Thrilling Lives 

knob and stand beneath the buffalo head that Pawnee shot 
when a boy, the meat of which saved his command of 
scouts from starving to death. The interior of the house 
beggars description of photographer's art or writer's abil- 
ity to hinge words together. The main living room is 
rugged with Oriental weavings, the furniture is leathered 
in red, setting against dark and precious woods ; a monster 
ten foot open fire place with solid bronze hand irons, its 
merry glow of warmth extends the hearty cheer and hos- 
pitality that awaits from host and hostess — the gallant 
and smiling Major and his sweet, charming wife, Mrs. 
LiUie, who will be remembered before her retirement as 
the most expert woman rifle shot that the world ever 
knew. 

Drop chandeliers of diamond cut glass radiate a dazzle 
of electricity generated from the Major's private plant, 
walls leathered in brown with gold stained burlap frieze 
creeping up to an old Dutch ceiling. To the right is a 
cozy little den, floor tiled with red and white flagstones, 
the furniture is weathered oak and another open fire place 
adds warmth and glow. The windows in both rooms 
reach the floor, the glass being the very finest imported 
bevel plate. The dining room is a spacious affair, a seven- 

[214] 



Pawnee's First Citizen 

foot diamond cut glass chandelier dropping down to with- 
in a few feet of the table that will seat fifty guests, the 
walls carry tapestries made in the seventeenth century. 
To one side is a bay window with plate glass, running 
nearly twenty feet in length, topping over a leather cov- 
ered window seat. 

The bedrooms are in various tints and furnishings, here 
and there are scattered monster rugs of buffalo, bear or 
lion. The silverware came from Tiffany's, New York, the 
linen and dining room service were made to order in dif- 
ferent parts of Europe. Throughout is readily seen the 
effects of lavish and tasty expenditure, the walls are hung 
with oils of the finest masters. 

With the Indian council house, the old settler's cabin, 
and the up-to-date bungalow of present-day civilization, 
Major Lillie has erected a splendid reminiscent tribute to 
past, present and future. He struggled hard, fought 
square and to-day Pawnee, Oklahoma, is right well proud 
of its famous and highly esteemed first citizen. 



[215] 




BUFFALO BILL— "THE FAREWELL SALUTE. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



Buffalo Bill's Farewell in the Saddle. 




OOD-BYE, Buffalo Bill. Good-bye," ten 
thousand voices shouted, no, not shouted, 
shrieked, as the famous scout made his final 
salute and bow to New York at Madison 
Square Garden, New York City, at the con- 
clusion of the engagement there in May, 1910. The an- 
nouncement was made that Colonel Cody was beginning a 
tour of the country that would be his last — his positive 
farewell in the saddle. 

I was one of the ten thousand present at Madison 
Square Garden on that never-to-be-forgotten night. New 
York couldn't seem to realize that it would never see 
the old plainsman in the arena again. Every perform- 
ance was packed with thousands of his enthusiastic 
friends and admirers. Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill 
had joined forces, it was a tremendous exhibition. And 

[217] 



Thrilling Lives 

Buffalo Bill told us that he would never come back to 
New York as the active head of the great institution that 
he had fathered and fostered through nearly thirty years 
of wondrous success. He looked about him for a man 
worthy to carry his mantle of command and one entitled 
to carry out the great project that he had started. Pawnee 
Bill was the only logical choice. 

New York could not realize that Buffalo Bill will here- 
after only be linked to it in history. 

"Buffalo Bill isn't ever going to come back," a man sit- 
ting near me said to a youngster at his side. 

"Gee, ain't that tough," and the lad meant it. 

Just imagine over ten thousand throats raspy from 
cheering, ten thousand men, women and children standing 
atop seats and railings, hats in hand, umbrellas and canes 
waving — a hundred spotlights pushing sunshine through 
every crevice of flag-tinted Madison Square, a thousand 
more men, women and horses, elephants and camels sprin- 
kled over the tan-bark — then picture Buffalo Bill, as dash- 
ingly handsome as ever, on a prancing horse, and the 
music — picture this and you get only a mental glimpse 
at the Garden when the memorable farewell season began. 

Nothing like it has ever been seen before, nothing can 

[218] 



Wonderful Exhibition 

ever approach this nonpareil consummation of artistic 
achievement. Buffalo Bill had scoured the Wild West, 
Pawnee Bill had drawn a fine-tooth comb through the 
burning sands of Oriental deserts — the result, a most 
amazing combination. Cowboy, Indian, Cossack and 
Moslem, contribute deeds of daring that fringe the danger 
line of death. None seemed happy unless coquetting with 
Madame Disaster, and yet withal, it's so apparently easy, 
so triflingly inconsequential, that even the most timid are 
rapture-bound. 

There is no trickery in the exhibition, there is no re- 
sorting to magical artifice, there's nothing left to routine ; 
it's just dare-devil chance. I saw rider after rider tossed 
mid-air — a loose clod of dirt, a slipping surcingle, a 
broken bridle, these are the things that unlock the injury 
sprites. 

No eye so trained, no brain so quick, no muscle so 
brawny but what Fate or accident can't master. When 
you realize this and realize that every participant in the 
spectacle before you is master of its own destiny for only 
a tiny fortuitous second — then you realize just how truly 
wonderful is the exhibition that you're witnessing. The 

[219] 



Thrilling Lives 

circus has its dangers, but the element of chance is en- 
tirely eliminated when you parallel the risks. 

Every child or man among us has immortalized the 
name of Buffalo Bill. He is the living epitome of uncivil- 
ized America. We watch him in mimic warfare, his ac- 
coutrements dazzling, his mount slickened with care and 
grooming, his every appearance denoting peace and con- 
tentment, admiring thousands cheering as he sweeps a 
graceful acknowledging bow, this is what we see, and this 
is all that the most of us have ever seen, but — take a min- 
ute away from to-day, turn back the page, there's an 
Indian scout, tattered^ half-famished, blood streaked, a 
trusty rifle balancing, an eye-glance as true as the steel 
over which it looks, death and carnage on every side; a 
horde of wild, bepainted, gore-thirsty red demons lurking 
in ambush. 

I wonder if Colonel Cody ever thinks of those days — 
I wonder if Major LilHe ever thinks of them? The fron- 
tiersman has gone. Cooper did much to send him down 
to posterity, but Cooper was impossible in his unrealities. 
The leather-stocking heroes of his fiction were not actuali- 
ties. We have the living, breathing history before us to- 

[ 220] 



A Hundred Years Hence 

day, in Buffalo Bill and Pawnee Bill. But they are the 
last. 

Time will come when the cowboy must go in training 
schools to learn to shoot and ride. And all this makes 
the exhibition the more remarkable. In the box next to 
mine sat the richest man that America has ever known. I 
wondered what his thoughts were as the old stage-coach 
rumbled in. King Commercial met King Plainsman face 
to face that night. 

Major Lillie stood at the entrance with elbows athwart 
the rail. Possibly not a hundred, except friends, recog- 
nized that sturdy, rugged face. I wondered if the scene 
recalled olden days to him. The time when but an adven- 
ture-seeking youngster he ran away from home to seek 
his fortune in the West — to roam the plains, to become 
an adopted son of Mother Nature, when he waded icy 
streams thigh high and finally joined Trapper Tom. 

From that day on Pawnee Bill grooved his way 
through hardships to high honors. These are the things 
that caught a flicker of my thought. I wonder a hundred 
years hence who will be our Buffalo Bill or Pawnee Bill, 
or will Grandma take the youngster aknee and read to- 
day's and yesterday's history? 

[221] 



Thrilling Lives 

Just then a shout, a piercing, shrieking hi, hi, ke, yep 
hee, torn toms, warwhoops, and a mad dashing body of 
horsemen, white and red, raced on the bark. A most 
imposing spectacle — the Far West greets the Occidental 
East. Copper-skins from the world's opposite corners 
vie with each other in feats of extreme horsemanship. A 
second later and then another yell, this time from the lusty- 
throated cowboys, and what a yell — and what riding, and 
what horses. In quick succession equestrian experts from 
everywhere, Sioux and Cheyenne Indians, cowboys, Mexi- 
cans, scouts, guides, veteran members of the U. S. Sixth 
Cavalry, a group of Wild West rosy-cheeked girls, Aus- 
tralian bushmen, Arabians, Japanese and Cossacks pranced 
into position. 

Suddenly a hundred spotlights flooded the arena, mar- 
tial music blared, the curtains parted, and in rushed Col- 
onel Cody, the greatest of all living scouts. Sweeping ac- 
knowledgments to the cheering throngs, he charged 
straight for the front. The great performance was on. 

As the final curtain was about to close, the storm of 
pent-up enthusiasm broke — Cody was greeted with ring- 
ing cheers and insistent demands for a speech. 

"Ladies and gentlemen — and you, my little friends 'way 

[ 222 ] 



CoDr's Farewell 

up there in the gallery, I thank you." The old scout sat 
erect in saddle, there was a tremble in his voice. "I am 
about to go home for a well-earned rest. Out in the 
West I have my horses, my buffaloes, my sturdy, staunch, 
old Indian friends — my home and my green fields, but I 
never see them green. When my season is over the hill- 
sides and the meadows have been blighted by a wintry 
frost and the sere and yellow leaves cover the ground. I 
want to see nature in its prime, to enjoy a rest from active 
life. My message to you to-night is one of farewell 
(the old scout's voice filled with emotion). Thirty years 
ago you gave me my first welcome here. I am grateful 
for your continued loyal devotion to me. During that 
time many of my friends among you and many of those 
with me have been long since gathered to the great un- 
known arena of another life — there are only a few of us 
left. When I went away from here each year before I 
merely said good night — this time it will mean good-bye. 
To my little friends in the gallery and the grown-ups who 
used to sit there, I thank you once again. God bless you 
all — good-bye." 

A deathly silence spread over the vast assemblage, the 
old scout's horse backed to the arena's end — the animal 

[223] 



Thrilling Lives 

knelt before a huge statue of an Indian camp. Through 
its base flashed the word "farewell." Then, awakening 
from its stupor, the throng, realizing that they were look- 
ing for the last time on the greatest hero the plains ever 
knew, broke in ringing cheers. 

"Good-bye, Buffalo Bill, good-bye! God bless you, 
too!" There was not a dry eye in the Garden. 

The End. 







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§^ DEC 89 



